


Kiwi

by coeurastronaute



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Celeb au, F/F, tinder au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-03-15 09:01:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13610016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coeurastronaute/pseuds/coeurastronaute
Summary: Lexa is a musician, and meets Clarke on Tinder.





	1. Chapter 1

“I need a cigarette.”

“You’re on in three.”

“Just enough time.”

The manager wanted to argue, but she heard the familiar ding of a Zippo and she rolled her eyes before going back inside with a dramatic flourish. Grateful for the quiet, the singer tugged the collar of her coat up a little tighter and inhaled before adding more clouds with her smoke.

The past few weeks were nothing more than a blur and a dream of appearances and performances. These moments were stolen and perfect, though much too short. She asked for it, though. She wanted it, and she knew what all came with it.

On the old loading dock of a radio station in downtown, the singer inhaled at the nicotine greedily, and prepared herself for what she was about to do. Despite all of the knowing, there was still a distinct dissonance between who she pretended to be, and who she actually was. Being interviewed never made her comfortable, and she was a certified hermit, but for the rest of the world, she wasn’t.

“Oh, God! It’s you!” a voice appeared and ruined it, causing the leather-clad artist to groan slightly to herself. “I’m sorry. I was just… I smoke out here sometimes when it’s too cold for the back parking lot.”

“Sorry I took your spot,” she grinned, the character coming out quickly, and almost frighteningly so.

“No, no, it’s fine. I mean you’re… you’re… you’re Lexa Woods,” the girl explained, as if it were news to the musician. “I saw you play three years ago at the Garden. It was amazing.”

“Thank you. I really should be going though.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Can I give you a light?” Lexa paused, digging her lighter out of her pocket again after tossing the cigarette butt towards a near-empty dumpster.

The clouds were thick and heavy, while the cold was annoying and painful. The back dock smelled like wet garbage, and the city chirped all around, but it was almost home.

Shyly, the girl nodded and blushed. She couldn’t have been more than twenty and the thought made Lexa uncomfortable. Only a few years separated them, but what a few years it had been for her. With a large portion of it fucking girls like this one on coke-fueled binges, she was ashamed of herself, more and more. She was different now. She was figuring out what it meant to appear one way, and be another.

The intern smiled and thanked her. Lexa gave her two tickets to the show that night and made her way inside after a hug and a lot of thanks. She liked that part.

“You’re late,” Indra complained as the elevator dinged and Lexa pushed her hair around, digging her hands into it nervously. Her sister leaned against the wall, not saying much at all.

“Why’d you let me smoke? I’m trying to quit.”

“Because you’re unruly when I enforce anything.”

“Yeah, well.”

“Yeah, exactly,” her manager taunted, grabbing her coat as they were directed into the greenroom. “I have to leave you with one vice to maintain the rockstar image.”

“I have plenty, thanks,” Lexa snorted as she took a seat. “So what will I be doing today? Puppies and Questions? I liked that one. Or maybe photobombing pictures?”

“Some computer game thing,” her sister shrugged and typed on her phone. “If you behave, I’ll take you to lunch and then you can have the afternoon to rehearse with me while the nanny is busy with the kid.”

“Why doesn’t Anya have to do this stuff?” Lexa complained, looking at Indra through the mirror.

“Because she behaves herself and doesn’t land up on tabloids.” She scowled and rolled her eyes before meeting her sister’s eyes.

“Fine. Deal.”

When Lexa first had the notion of doing anything real with her music, she never once believed or dreamt of making it to that moment. But she had an old guitar and played for a lot of punk bands in high school before dropping out to play and refine herself. Her sister had a degree from an online university that she got while driving them around in a van and playing drums. They were a team. Their little band was a surprising hit. Even two albums later.

And then Lexa torpedoed them.

Lexa didn’t make it easy, but she was trying to get better. She had to get better, because Anya counted on her, and she just realized what that might mean. Things were different, and she let herself get off target. Now she was nothing but focused, despite her own initial resistance to it.

“Go get’em kiddo,” Anya winked and nudged her toward the booth.

“Hey, cheers, yeah, pleasure,” Lexa smiled and took the headphones after shaking hands with the radio hosts. Her manager gave her a nod and signaled for her to smile more. “Thanks for having me.”

“Thanks for coming in,” the gentleman beamed. “Are you ready to do a little live show?”

“Kind of excited about it, actually. I don’t get to play much for fun.”

“We’re going to separate the hour up into three segments,” the female producer explained as Lexa got herself situated in the chair, adjusting her microphone. “First, a little intro, some questions. Then, your manager okayed a little game segment. Last, a follow up and then you do a little song for us.”

“Easy day,” Lexa smiled, rolling up her sleeves.

When Lexa disappeared, it happened so quietly, that no one really knew about it. She snuck off, heartbroken, stoned, and drunk, and she was forced to get better, and she was forced to work on a new album because nothing else mattered. And it helped, to distract herself with work. She spent a good year really working through things on a guitar. It left her with something she was proud of, though now she had to answer for her time in hiding.

It started out simple enough, and Lexa was back in the swing of interviews and touring. It was nothing like when she was in a van with her sister, and living off of gas station food. Now she was international and on the biggest shows. The nerves were still there though.

The introductions went well enough, a little witty banter, but like clockwork, she could feel the switch that came in the questions.

“You were MIA for about two years, right?” the host ventured. “What happened?”

“It’s kind of simple. I had to write. I got my heart broken, plain and simple. Everything happened in a big of a whirlwind for me. I spent four or five years really hustling and coming up, and I got swept up in it. So I had to get my head on right.”

“Seems like some much needed R and R, right?”

“Definitely. Plus, I really got to grow in my sound, which has been an amazing experience.”

“You had a pretty gruelling schedule before?”

“Yeah, I made my sister schlep all over the world. She deserved a little time at home. Plus, she was incubating a human.”

“That probably does take a bit of energy,” the laughed.

“Now we just have more people coming on tour with us,” Lexa grinned and sipped her water. 

“But back to the album. It’s evident the change in sound. This is already being heralded as the best album of the year across the board. How do you feel about it?”

“I’m far too self-deprecating to ever consider it the best of the year,” Lexa chuckled and nervously toyed with her hair. “It’s something I’m proud of. I mean, I’m always proud of my work, but I feel different this go, and I think that’s what you hear in it. Heartbreak and a lot of figuring myself out. Can’t say I’ve succeeded much, but I gave it a go.”

“So heartbreak is a theme,” one ventured, smiling slightly. “You haven’t been back on the dating horse? In two years?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say two years. But the past few months, I have been very strict with myself.”

“So you don’t believe in love anymore?”

“Phew, wow. Um. I do. I’m not so sure I’m any good at it.”

“This is perfect. We are going to find you love today, Lexa Woods. Or at least, that’s what your sister proposed we do with you.”

“We’ll be right back with Lexa Woods, resident rockstar,” the other host interrupted the artist’s nerves. “Right after this.”

The music cut in and they were cleared. No one felt like updating her on what felt like an important piece of information, so she looked back at her sister, who just smirked. It was a dangerous kind of game, and all of a sudden, Lexa remembered how much she’d made her sister’s life difficult, and thus was deserving of these little jokes she played.

“You’re just going to need your phone,” an aide appeared and pulled some cords from somewhere.

“For what?”

“Tinder.”

“What’s that?” Lexa furrowed and handed over her phone as it was plugged in to the computer. The hosts just looked at each other before looking back at her.

“Basically, you set up a profile, and simply swipe left if you don’t like the person, and then right, if you’re attracted to them.”

“Isn’t that the thing for fucking?”

“We’re looking for love,” they assured her.

Lexa groaned internally, but nodded. She could handle fucking. It was love that was complicated and turned her into a monster. It was love that led her to Costia. It was love that fucked her over, a fact that her sister liked to forget in favor of the notion of romance.

Helplessly, she looked to Indra who was busy emailing on her phone. Anya sat in the sound booth, giving her sister a curt little wave. Penance, Lexa reminded herself. It was her duty.

She watched as something was put on her phone and they set up the basics. It was going to be a long day. No one would ever accuse Lexa of being a talker. It was a miracle she survived these types of things.

“And we’re back this afternoon with Lexa Woods, all-around badass and self-proclaimed victim of heartbreak. Welcome back again, Lexa.”

“Thanks for having me, I guess,” she smiled slightly.

“So you dated Costia, the model, correct?” an anchor ventured. “Is that who broke your heart?”

“I don’t like to name names,” she smiled coyly.

“How very chivalrous of you. Well, we just love the album, but we do want to hear more love songs, and so we thought we’d help you get back to a full heart, so to speak. Please welcome our contestant of the moment to another round of Rockstar Tinder!”

Noise effects went off in the headphones and Lexa shook her head, doing her best to maintain a bit of the tough guy persona she just had. In all reality, she wanted to run away and smoke, but she couldn’t. So she played along.

“I know this might be a little hard to believe, but I’ve never actually used Tinder,” she confessed, playing it up for the audience.

“We actually don’t have trouble believing that a rockstar would need help.”

“Even better. So we’ve been not too successful yet. But we think the third time doing this is the charm. We’ll even help you out.”

“Perfect. Let’s do it. Ladies, I’m coming for you.”

With a little chatter, they managed to form a quick little profile for the musician. They selected a few picture and tried to make it obvious and not obvious.

“So it’s left if I like them? Will they be swiping for me? How do I know if they like me?”

“Right if you like them,” the host laughed. “And I’m sure they’ll love you.”

It was a fun enough game. Lexa even found herself laughing slightly with all of it. It seemed so obscure to her. But a few people swiped on her, and she had fun chatting, trying to convince some she really was who she said, and others, that it was all fake. No matter what, she always told them to tune in and hear to verify. She even told a few that she’d have tickets waiting for the sold out show, and it was up to them to try it out.

No love could be found though. Lexa understood how exciting it kind of was, to swipe around and meet new people. It seemed weird to not just go to a pub and pick someone up in person though. She was clumsy online.

“Well, did you find love?” the host asked, wiping his eyes from laughing so hard at the musician’s antics. If there was one thing Lexa could do well, it was schmooze. She was one hell of an appearance.

“Unfortunately, no. And I had such high hopes that we’d find it in ten minutes.”

“Yeah, we struck out again,” the other sighed. “And with that, our suave singer is still single, so all you ladies at the show tonight, go ahead and throw some bras and such.”

“The way to my heart,” Lexa sang.

“We’ll be back in a bit. We have two live songs coming up right here in house. One from the new album and a cover, right?”

“Yeah, of course. Anything for you.”

“Goodness, you can swipe right on me any day,” the female host fanned herself.

“And with that, we’ll see you soon,” the other rolled his eyes.

* * *

The day had been long and exhausting, but something about sore muscles and incomprehensible tiredness felt welcomed. There was just a few more days left in her adopted city, and Lexa was more than eager to savor the feeling of her own bed. She was more than eager to savor the feeling of quiet and solitude that came in her condo.

Outside of the floor-length windows, she saw the city glimmer and for a moment, she ached to be out there. Instead, she stayed in, and she savored. She took the longest shower of her life, washing away the sweat and dirt from the concert. She snacked. She returned emails. She was utterly domestic and terribly boring.

Before, after a show, she would be out partying, drinking, smoking, going out somewhere. Four in the morning, and she’d be doing lines in the bathroom and not falling asleep until noon. It wore down her body and mind and heart, and also that of her sister.

Now, she was crawling into bed with a bowl of fruit, a nature documentary, and wool socks before one. But it was the only way her sister agreed to go on tour with her again. She’d be up by nine, in the gym by ten, and prepared for whatever they had scheduled for her. She was a team player, and she was done being selfish, especially after everything her sister did for her after the break up and implosion. Plus, she was oddly into the documentaries.

**Ding.**

With a growl, Lexa stretched and grabbed her phone from the nightstand, ready to decline whatever offer someone was extending by simply ignoring it.

Instead, she found herself looking at a Tinder match and rolling her eyes. She did meet with some of those she spoke with, the ones who showed up and believed her. That was actually fun. Now, it felt a little off, and weird.

But maybe her sister was kind of right. Maybe she could open herself up. She was better than she’d ever been. For a few seconds, she argued it over with herself while a very British host described the harsh environments of some random island. He told the story of birds that don’t see each other for six months at a time, and the female was missing. For a bird, the male looked extremely upset, and that was enough to nudge the musician’s decision making process.

For some reason, she sat up in bed a little straighter, as if she were actually going to work or something. But all that she did was begin to swipe. She was extremely discerning, and felt oddly covert, like she was hiding this from someone. She looked around her empty bedroom and leaned back against the headboard.

As soon as the urge to look came, it disappeared. The female bird arrived and they made little bird babies before the documentary moved onto another island with ugly little toads and an ant problem. Gone was the spark and motivation. Realism replaced the dreamy idea of love in the technological age.

With a final swipe to the left, Lexa sighed and snagged a piece of melon before preparing to shut off her phone.

And then she looked at the last person who appeared and she gave it one final go, flicking her to the right and tossing her phone hopelessly a second later.

Her sister might be right about opening herself up and not letting Costia win after rebuilding, but Lexa was certain that she wasn’t about to find anything worthwhile on Tinder, not even a random hook up. Because while she did want to believe her sister, she’d settle for just a warm body.

* * *

Across town, the music was thumping. The bar was filled to capacity, and the night was far from ending, as it was technically just starting. Already a few hours into her shift and just starting to sweat with filling drink orders, the bartender grinned, winked, flirted a little to pay the bills.

“No, I’m done, Rae,” the bartender shook her head as she poured and handed out a few shots. “No more blind dates. No more worrying about romance. This is a new start. I have my internship and I just want to be me for a bit. So stop setting me up and giving out my number.”

“It’s been–”

“I know how long it’s been,” she grunted.

“Clarke, I’m just trying to help.”

“Your blind date lives in his mother’s basement and plays video games as a profession. I think the sea is all dried up for me. No more help needed.”

“Suit yourself.”

“I do suit myself.”

With a self-satisfied nod, Clarke took a deep breath before steadying her customer-service smile and getting back to work.

On a good night, she made enough to be comfortable. On a great night, she could put some away for savings. Tonight was setting up to be great. So great, in fact, that she didn’t mind taking a breather and grabbing a drink herself when some terrible band started playing and the orders stalled out mostly.

Despite herself and her words, Clarke checked the Tinder notification she got a few hours ago, first. She didn’t mean to, but it was habit. She never used it, but from time to time it was hilarious to watch people try to flirt or just be complete weirdos.

The notification didn’t disappoint. Of course, the rockstar Lexa Woods matched with her. Of course, no one would ever think to pretend just a little and be more original when catfishing. Of course, this was her luck. But still, pretend as it was, it was flattering to think of the sex goddess who seemed to wear the tightest black pants and simple black shirts and leather jackets at all times, as being interested.

For the hell of it, Clarke ignored the shit band and hummed one of her favorite songs as she perused this rockstar’s fake Tinder. There was no way someone who looked like sex and sweat and all manner of perfection, who also wrote beautiful songs and played guitar in front of millions, would need a dating app. There was no way. That was like imagining said rockstar in fuzzy socks, and already tucked in bed with a facemask and nature documentary. It just didn’t make sense.

The pictures were definitely the rockstar that Clarke was picturing. Leaning against the back counter, Clarke sipped her drink and looked at the pictures of a girl and a guitar. There was one with her with a puppy, which was a problem. The profile was simple, the bio saying simply: Yes, that Lexa Woods.

She’d given up on love, so this made sense to her. With a smile, Clarke tried to type something clever, but failed terribly.

_I know you play guitar, but if I were a drum, I’d let you bang me all night._

Satisfied that she’d at least make whoever it was smile, the bartender went back to work, quickly forgetting about the weirdo on her phone.


	2. Chapter 2

_I know you play guitar, but if I were a drum, I’d let you bang me all night._

Lexa smiled to herself as she read the message. It was cute and it was really funny, though she wasn’t sure what it might mean, or if it was just a laugh for the stranger on the other end. Once more, to reacquaint herself, she looked through the pictures of the blonde with the terrible pick up line. Morning was there, and she didn’t mind it because she didn’t leave the bed. She had time to peruse someone’s manufactured self.

The first, the stranger was blowing a kiss at the camera, all squinted and adorable, with a kind of sultriness to her. She was all blonde hair and a square face. The next she was muddy from a marathon, smiling so wide her cheeks were tugging at her eyes, as she held a medal up, surrounded by a group of people dressed in a similar fashion. The last, she was at a bar and pouring shots, giving the camera a nice little wink.

All that Lexa could tell was that she was pure trouble, but by far the most interesting person she came across in her meandering around the app. No one gave her a good pick up line and looked like that in a sports bra. She should have deleted the app. Her sister would have told her to do that. Her manager would have told her to do that. But Lexa had a self-destructive streak that she often forgot she didn’t have full control of just yet. 

The radio thing was over, and so she should have turned off the app, or deleted it completely– she knew that. Today, she had a full day of rehearsals and meetings. She didn’t have to respond to the wild child of a girl. The message came at three in the morning, and Lexa assumed it was with the help of a drink or two.

But she sure as hell did. Lexa had addictions. She had plenty of them. One of them was pretty girls who looked like they’d leave her with a hangover in her heart. And since she wasn’t allowed to partake of her other proclivities, she sure as hell messaged back.

_I do play guitar, and I’d sure like to strum your g-string._

It was short, it was flirty, it was terrible and hopefully funny enough. Lexa was oddly rusty with the entirety of the whole thing. She was an amateur at online flirting and bad pick up lines, but it felt right. But as soon as she sent it, she felt the tinge of embarrassment that would follow her for possibly the rest of her life if no one answered.

With a sigh, Lexa finally opened her curtains and greeted the day.

* * *

“Strum your g-string,” Clarke read with a squint as she chuckled to herself.

The light of the day was squarely in the sky, and she was still tired and oddly smelling like stale beer despite her best efforts. Her bartender hours didn’t mesh so well with her passion projects, but still, she woke herself up around noon.

For some reason, before bed, she remembered perusing the stranger’s profile again, attempting to determine who would use such a terrible choice as a catfish. Clearly everyone would know Lexa Woods. Clearly, everyone would know it was not her. There certainly was just no possible way that she was flirting with that Lexa Woods.

_Fresh out of those, but if you want, you can tickle my ivories anytime, girl._

Satisfied with herself, she smiled and let her phone fall to her chest as she dug the heel of her palm into her eyes and tried to find some kind of energy to confront the waiting day. Her upstairs neighbor was already vacuuming. Her downstairs neighbor was already listening to the news at an obscene volume. In reality, she’d never sleep again, she decided. But she could afford the shit hole on the fourth floor, and that was where she remained. Debt-free and comfortable enough, which was somewhat of a leg up on some of her former classmates who were neck deep in debt and brunching away the pain.

_I have been known to finger more than a guitar._   
_I’m Lexa, by the way._

To her credit, Clarke wasn’t sure why she found herself answering a fraud. Maybe it was stupid optimism. Maybe it was boredom. Maybe it was sleep deprivation. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t come close to getting laid in too long to admit. Either way, she thought it was a nice distraction from the tedium of her internship.

She thought over her response, carefully calculating it as she slid on old jeans and a shirt, brushed her teeth, grabbed her bag, and emerged into the world on her way to the studio. In just under ten minutes, she was rushing through the door and out into life, no time for much thought towards living.

It was getting complicated now that it wasn’t just pick up lines.

_You’re Lexa Woods, and I’m Gwyneth Paltrow._

She didn’t mean to do it, but as she climbed down to her subway, Clarke slipped in her headphones and found herself playing a familiar song that dominated the radio recently– one that she couldn’t escape, and oddly enough didn’t want to just yet. She hummed along and tucked into the book she borrowed from her neighbor as she slushed her way across town.

The internship was an accident, one that she still wasn’t certain how she got, though she was not looking any horses in the mouth. All she did was run around and get coffees for her boss, but sometimes, she got to watch him work, and that was more than enough. He also critiqued her work, from time to time. It was mostly negative, but she was still finding herself, he promised. She snorted at how real it was.

_I’ve met her, and you look nothing like Gwyn. Though, I suppose your pictures could be a rouse to seduce a silly singer such as myself._

Clarke mulled as she handed out coffees. Her boss stole all of her attention as they began to pack up for a photoshoot at the park. She didn’t think about the stranger for at least fifteen minutes. Of course, she couldn’t really stop.

_And Lexa Woods is really on Tinder. You didn’t steal those pictures?_

“Tell me what lens you would use,” her boss interrupted. She shoved her phone into her pocket.

Clarke didn’t stop moving. She missed her friend’s texts about plans for that night. She tossed herself into her passion, excited to just be there, to soak up what she could, even half-exhausted from her long night at work and the night in front of her. For just a bit, she was eager to learn and become better.

_She is, and she’s chatting you up. How am I doing so far? Should I tell you that I find you gorgeous or funny, first?_

Once again, Clarke found herself putting headphones into her ear as she traversed the city toward job number three. She closed her eyes for a moment and let the chill of the window and the rocking of the cars rock her softly. This was sometimes all she got for a few days. She listened more intently than ever before to the words that came out over the thick guitar. For some reason, she almost believed she could hear something different in the voice.

_You always start with gorgeous. Didn’t they teach you anything in rockstar school?_

What if. What if, Clarke asked herself.

_I don’t know if I’d call myself a rockstar. Just a musician is fine. What is it you do, gorgeous girl?_

_I’ll tell you about me when you prove your not a weird, middle-aged man._

That felt like enough of a challenge. Proud of herself, Clarke climbed the steps and emerged in the city, now without sunshine and effectively night. With a glance at her watch, she set off a little quicker toward the bar.

* * *

“Well, it was fun while it lasted,” Lexa sighed as she tossed her phone to the side and toyed with her guitar a little more.

All was quiet in her living room as she sat on the floor and tapped her pen against the notebook beside her. The only reason she had furniture was because her sister made her. She was more comfortable on the floor. She felt less distracted when she was uncomfortable.

But her sister got her way, and the apartment had furniture. It had a nice long sofa, which was Lexa’s only stipulation– she had to fit on it. The kitchen was fully stocked and decked out in all manner of gadgets, though she stuck with avoiding an open flame to cook. There was art on the walls, somewhat. Mostly gig posters and pieces that the decorator swore were expensive. It wasn’t huge or grand or even luxurious, at least not comparably, but it was starting to feel like home, and as a creature of habit, Lexa was almost sad to leave it. She kept it spartan and simple because that helped keep her mind focused.

Unfortunately, that also meant she had nothing else to think about beside the girl on her phone. There was half a song she’d been toying with half-heartedly, but that wasn’t nearly as interesting, nor did it look half as good in a low-cut shirt.

She didn’t want to prove who she was to the stranger. She kind of liked the snark that came with thinking she was just someone else on the internet. It didn’t stop her though. With a stupid face, she snapped a picture and sent it.

_Would you like one with a newspaper and the date as well?_

It hadn’t been quick responses, and so she didn’t expect the noise on her phone so quickly, though she practically jumped at the chance to see the reply. For the entire day, she felt herself glancing more toward her phone than normal. Often, she forgot it or handed it off to Indra. She liked being present in the moment, and she liked proving that she was a hard worker, now. But for some reason, she was eager to check between every interview and during every spare moment. But that was fine. It was strictly because she hadn’t had sex in two months and she was a masochist.

_Well fuck me. I just used terrible and gross pick up lines on Lexa Woods. If you need me, I’ll just be digging a hole to crawl into._

Lexa chuckled at the reply and did a little shimmy of victory, though for what, she wasn’t entirely sure just yet.

_To be fair, mine were worse. It’s nice to meet you Clarke. I’m heading out of town for a bit, and I think I’m going to delete this app, but if you want to chat, here’s my number._

* * *

‘Heading out of town for a bit’ meant a small Australian tour.

Clarke stared at her phone as she scrolled through the Twitter feed, the most recent update a picture of a small suitcase and a guitar by a large door in what must be the singer’s apartment. It was captioned ‘homeward bound in a few hours.’

She alternated between googling the singer and trying to figure out if it was really her, and not a picture from somewhere that she missed, and the blank message with a rock stars phone number. As soon as the picture came through though, she knew she wouldn’t find it anywhere else– it was her.

There was a video she watched of a live performance and swallowed. There couldn’t have been anymore more beautiful than Lexa with the guitar and the rolled up sleeves and the messy hair and the long necklace and the tattoo peaking out on her bicep and the way she closed her eyes and sang.

Clarke clicked around and saw more pictures, saw more stories. She never thought to think about Lexa Woods. She just knew her in general. Now she felt like a super stalker.

Her heart went a little numb though, when the next video to play was from a few days before at a local radio station where Lexa, sure enough, was on Tinder, fielding random girls with limited to no success. So she was on the app. That didn’t mean she was talking to Lexa Woods though.

_If you’re Lexa Woods, post a picture on Twitter of you, with the name of your favorite president written on your hand, and a backwards hat, with your left eye closed._

Satisfied with it, she texted the stranger and went back to scrolling in the wee hours of her after-work haze. There was no real reason that a superstar would be messaging her, or keep messaging her. It didn’t make sense at all. It wasn’t what Clarke needed.

What she did need, however, was sleep. She needed to focus on her life and the internship that was running her ragged, combined with her own small photography business of stupid wedding pictures and, on her off days, bands and artists, coupled with two bartending jobs to pay the rent. Clarke could barely breathe, and she didn’t have time for a gross, elderly dude pretending to be someone else.

_I’m currently somewhere over the Atlantic. Wasn’t I charming enough for you to believe me?_

Clarke snorted.

_They were pretty impressive lines._

_How do I know you’re really the beautiful girl from the pictures?_

She hadn’t expected that part. But Clarke couldn’t expect for her to prove it, and not herself. It all made sense, and so she snapped a picture. Actually, she snapped twelve, before deciding on one.

_Wow. Yeah, you’re gorgeous. This is a problem._

_You’re up next, hot stuff._

_Can’t we just get to know each other?_

_I’ll keep it cool, but there’s no way I can take you seriously if I’m not sure who you are._

_Dammit._

There was a kind of dread and hope that happened at the same time. Clarke opened up Twitter on her phone and tugged down, refreshing it repeatedly. The more minutes that ticked by, the more convinced that she’d never hear from that number again. She hadn’t realized she’d hoped for it though.

About twenty minutes later, her phone buzzed, though she’d long since fallen asleep. Not even the vibration made her aware that things were happening.

_There you go, princess._

* * *

_Hi. I’m Clarke._

Lexa smiled to herself as she read the message when she woke. Something about being back home, and two oceans away from the stranger was oddly comforting. She didn’t mind the travel, and she certainly didn’t mind tugging herself away from the temptation.

_Do you feel weird now, knowing it’s really me?_

Her clock said it was just after ten, but she felt as if she’d been awake for years. Though she did nap on and off during the flight, something about waiting for a response kept her from an easy rest that normally came when she travelled. Hell, Lexa considered herself an expert on sleeping anywhere, anytime.

When she opened the curtains of her room, she saw Sydney in all of its sunshine and glory. It’d be hot and miserable out there, and she was ready for it. A year ago she wouldn’t have been excited to go running, but now she craved the hurt that came with it. It was a new addiction.

_It definitely changes things a little. But who wouldn’t dream of being chatted up by you?_

_I should warn you– I’m much better at this in person._

“Hey, Lex,” a knock at her door wiped away the smile and the apparent pacing she was doing, unable to keep still. “We’re going to grab some breakfast, want to come?”

“I’m going for a run,” she smiled as she opened the door. “Isn’t it just a great day?”

“Should I be worried?” Anya furrowed, balancing the baby on her hip. “You’re in a really good mood.”

“We’re home. I’m high on life. I’m about to go for a run, and then I’ll meet you for breakfast, okay?”

“You’re going to crash. You barely slept on the plane.”

_I might hold you to that when you get back ;)_

“I’ll be fine,” she shrugged and tugged on an old shirt and shoving her phone in a pocket. “I’m going to meet Gus downstairs.”

With a kiss of her nephew’s cheek and one for her sister, she made her way down the hall and toward her bodyguard in the lobby who got her into running.

_I really hope you do._

Lexa was home and flirting with a girl on purpose, of her own volition, and not because it was expected or required. It was about making her own decisions, and ever since everything that her past few years were, she felt ridiculously good about such a simple decision.

_Consider it a date then._

* * *

_Should we get the first date questions out of the way then?_

Clarke stopped right on the stairs as she climbed out from her subway ride. Done with her internship and on her way to a gig taking some pictures, she shivered slightly as the cold came down in a whipping wind from the street. People pushed past her and just two days ago she was a perfectly normal member of society.

With a shake of her head she made her way out into the world, adjusting the strap on her shoulder, the heavy bag carrying the precious camera supplies she’d saved and scraped everything she ever made, to own.

For a solid three hours, she was able to forget that there was a grammy-winner waiting for a reply.

_Then what would we do on the first date?_

There weren’t many nights that Clarke found herself without work. Her schedule was tight and she liked it like that. Kept her busy, kept her focused, kept her out of too much trouble, or at least the kind that she didn’t choose. She definitely chose a lot of it.

“I need to talk to you,” Clarke said as she reached over the bar and poured herself a drink, not bothering to wait for her best friend. “It’s urgent.”

“Everything okay?” Raven furrowed and watched the weird behavior.

There wasn’t enough time to answer and drink, so Clarke took a shot and let out a shaky breath. For some reason, she’d been holding it in like a secret, and it was too much. She couldn’t handle it. She wasn’t as cool or calm or collected as she originally intended.

After pouring herself another one, she locked eyes with her best friend and waited for the words to come, her jaw set tight and firm while she gripped the glass tightly.

“I’m currently flirting with Lexa Woods. Yes, that Lexa Woods. She has my phone number and we’ve been flirting, and she’s charming and hot and I am this close,” Clarke explained, holding up her fingers so that they were very close together, “From believing that this is something that could happen. That I get to hook up with the most gorgeous and talented girl on the planet. I need you to pinch me and break my phone, in that order.”

When she was done talking, Clarke tossed back the drink and hissed again, the liquor making its way deep into her belly, burning a hole right through her.

Despite the noise from the surrounding customers, despite the music playing and the day-to-day sounds of the bar, all she could hear was the thumping of the blood in her ears as the booze made her feel queasy. The booze and Lexa Woods.

“I need more of an explanation to go on than this,” Raven finally ventured, shaking her head. “I don’t think–”

“It’s her,” Clarke nodded, pulling out her phone and holding it up with the messages. “I made sure.”

She poured herself a generous drink once more while her friend leaned over the counter and read everything, her eyes growing wide when she got to the picture.

“What would we talk about on the first date,” Raven read, still amazed. “She answered, did you see it? Just your breakfast order. Damn. That’s good.”

 

“I am getting hit on by Lexa Woods,” Clarke repeated, pouring another. “Help me.”

To her credit, Raven looked back at the phone before taking the bottle away. She put the phone down in front of her friend, beside the glass of vodka and softened slightly. There was such a look of worry that she wasn’t sure how to convince Clarke that it was alright.

“Finn was a dick who cheated on you, left your bruised and fucked, and you need to get rid of him in your head. You have the chance to fuck Lexa Woods. What could make you forget someone else quicker?”

At first, she wanted to argue, but Clarke considered the words and snapped her mouth shut as she stared at her phone.

_Promise me you won’t fall in love, or make me fall in love with you._

As soon as she sent it, she downed her drink and collapsed on the stool, letting her head toss back and forth in a wallowing and miserable state. Her friend just chuckled and patted her back as best she could from behind the bar.

_I would never dream of it. You and me and absolutely no emotions. I get back the day after Christmas._

_French toast and coffee with two creams and two sugars._


	3. Chapter 3

Despite what was waiting for her, Lexa felt no real urge to pack her suitcase. Instead, she sat in her bedroom of the house they rented for the holidays, and she strummed lazily on her guitar, finding a new kind of melody she almost enjoyed. Her heart wasn’t really in it, at least not entirely. She had the prospect of a long tour looming, and having to sing songs about her broken heart. As healing as the creation process had been, she hadn’t considered that.

But on the edge of the world, the house was completely alone and isolated, and most importantly, very private. They had their own beach, they had their own traditions that they got to uphold for the holidays, and for the most part, Lexa enjoyed it. Something about escaping and being normal was addicting. She lazed about and didn’t force anything, didn’t have much to work on, didn’t have a beat on a song. She was afraid to label it a rut, though perhaps it was close.

There wasn’t going to be a time in the near future where she wasn’t busy, and so she wanted to be in the right state of mind for the new year. That meant spending Christmas on the beach, thinking about nothing except chasing her nephew through the waves as he toddled around and shrieked from joy. All else be damned.

If it hadn’t been for her performance at New Years Eve, she would have had another week at home, but she almost didn’t mind, not with the promise of a girl who was quickly taking up much of her free time and battery life on her phone. Clarke was a great consolation prize to having to travel on Christmas night.

All at once it struck her that, for the past few weeks, she’d been talking to a stranger, and that she didn’t wallow about Costia, not even once, during the holidays. All at once, it struck her that the songs she had to sing seemed far away and not as fresh, but as if a thin skin had developed to cover the wounds. It wasn’t sturdy stuff just yet, but it was something, at least.

Lexa ran her fingers along the frets and furrowed as she thought about what was coming. They’d been coy and flirty, they’d been oddly honest and interested. She knew that Clarke was a photographer, or at least trying, and a bartender. She knew that it ended badly with the last ex. She knew that she was fairly clever and witty. Almost too witty, because Lexa could barely keep up.

Maybe that was why she felt weird about going home.

She got about two seconds into thinking about it before her phone buzzed and she smiled as she dug it from her pocket. Quickly it faded though as she saw that it was a phone call and not a text like the past few weeks.

Frantically, Lexa stood and looked around, her guitar gripped tightly in one hand, the phone in the other. The waves were hushing the hot sand of the day, lathering it in a nightly balm while the rest of the world faded behind the overpowering ocean. And all Lexa could do was fumble to answer a phone call.

“Hello? Clarke?”

“Oh no.”

“Is there a problem?”

“Dammit. I forgot about the accent,” the voice sighed, almost angry on the other end of the line.

Despite herself, Lexa relaxed slightly. There’d been a truce, of not calling. Now, she remembered why, because the oddly husky and gravelling voice was the thing of dreams; dirty dreams that kept Lexa in bed too much lately. Now she knew what Clarke sounded like, and that was damn near deadly.

“Isn’t it after three in the morning there?”

“Oh, yeah,” she chuckled. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

“I think the better question is, why aren’t you asleep? It’s only about ten here.”

“I can’t sleep. I’m kind of excited to meet you, and also I’ve had a few drinks. The only reason I was bold enough to call.”

“Be gentle with me. I haven’t had any drinks.”

“I’ll be as gentle as you’d like,” Clarke quipped, earning a bit of a smirk from the girl across the world. She’d never know it, but it was there. “But I suspect it’d be better if I was a little rough.”

The voice. Lexa swallowed because she didn’t expect that voice, and she certainly didn’t expect it to have such an effect on her, but there she was.

Without meaning to, Lexa looked down at her hand, as if it weren’t connected to her body. She wondered why she was still holding her guitar before hurriedly putting it on the bed, as if she could be seen and embarrassed.

“You called me.”

“Was I not supposed to?”

“No, no, you can, you could. You did. It’s great,” Lexa nodded to herself. “I’m flying home tomorrow.”

“I thought you were home,” Clarke teased.

That was the problem with someone knowing her– they knew the truth about how Lexa thought and felt. She’d already spent a long time talking to Clarke about the meaning of home and where she wanted to go and be. They spent hours texting about where they came from and where they felt like the should be one day.

“It’s home, but it doesn’t feel like home. New York is where I live now. It’s where I’ll live for the foreseeable future.”

“Lexa Woods, you are complex, did you know that?”

“I’m a simple girl. I like old guitars and good, cheap coffee.”

“Is that all?”

“My nephew.”

“He is damn adorable.” There was rustling on the phone, followed by a bit of crunching. “I’m sorry. I’m really hungry.”

“So you had a few drinks. How drunk are you?”

“Just tipsy,” she promised. “I’m very nervous to meet you.”

“Is it because I’m Lexa Woods?”

“Kind of,” Clarke replied honestly. “There’s no way around that. But also, more, because I just really want something good. You seem like a good thing. A good time.”

From across the world, Lexa smiled and paced around her room, strutting into the connected bathroom where she turned on the light and then walked back out. Her body kept moving, but she didn’t do anything, didn’t see anything, not really.

“Yeah, I could go for a bit of that, too.” Without meaning to, there was a lull, and at first, it was comforting, but after a second, it was daunting. After being honest, there really was nothing left than to be daunted by the prospect of being laid bare, and not hiding, clothed, wrapped in some kind of obstruction or lie or fib or pessimism.

On the other side of the planet, Lexa heard the noises of settling in for the night. She itched her neck nervously and wondered when the last time she’d actually been nervous had been, at least before Clarke. But the past few weeks had turned her back to feeling nerves and hope and those were weird.

“You never told me why you were on Tinder,” Lexa ventured in the quiet. “You’re not looking for anything. You’ve definitely told me that often.”

“My best friend– Raven– she made it. Said I needed to move on. And I was drunk, and forgot to delete it. I’m really not looking for anything. I only had it for about twelve hours before we matched, but I’ve deleted it.”

“Well, at least the entire world didn’t watch your first attempt at it.”

“You were kind of cute,” Clarke promised, earning a blush. “Slightly nervous and respectful and all.”

“Have you been googling me?” Lexa smiled.

“Of course.”

God only knew what things Clarke found. It would explain some of her questions and suddenly they weren’t as random.

“So the nerves do it for you? I have good news for what I’ll be like when I meet you.”

“I kind of like the idea of making you nervous,” the photographer murmured. “I’m collapsing into bed now with a plate of crackers. Don’t judge me too harshly.”

“I would never.”

“You know, you never told me why you kept swiping after the interview.”

To her credit, Lexa flopped down into her own bed as well, careful to avoid all the stuff hogging most of it as she attempted to sort.

“After the past year, I guess I just wanted normal,” she shrugged and tucked her arm behind her head as she looked at the ceiling. “And I hadn’t really thought about someone else. I don’t know, honestly. I’m ready for the future, for the first time in my life. Whatever that might mean. My sister has been saying things, like hoping I find some kind of happiness. I guess I realized I must be unhappy.”

“That makes sense a little bit, but not the whole way. You’re a mysterious fellow.”

“I hope that’s okay,” Lexa grinned.

“It’s not the worst,” Clarke yawned and was quiet for a beat. “Let’s not fall in love though.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to fall in love with you. Don’t fall in love with me.” It was bossy and direct. It took Lexa by surprise, but she didn’t move to think about it. Instead, she just stayed in the bed and waited.

“I think it’s too late for that. I’m madly in love with you already,” she joked. “I know we’ve said not to, but I’m a bit of a rebel.”

“I’m serious, Lexa,” she whispered, though it was stern. Lexa could tell that Clarke turned off the light and really settled for the night. “Promise me we won’t look for more than we have. I’m not getting caught up in anything. Sex and witty banter only.”

“I think we’ve had a few good talks already. Are those acceptable outside of flirting?”

“From time to time we can be human, yes.”

“Is this why you called me, to remind me of your little rule?”

“I really wanted to hear your voice, just in case you weren’t real,” Clarke confessed, erasing all of her previous statements. Lexa closed her eyes at the very contradictions present. She didn’t mind it. She was okay without love.

“And now that I am?”

“I’d love to see you when you get back.”

“It’s going to be awkward,” Lexa sighed. “At first, at least.”

“How do you figure?”

“It’s easy to be… this. You know. Not the Lexa Woods. When I’m not in person. Sometimes I just fall into it.”

“Can we just agree to get over the awkward and have pretty decent sex?” Lexa didn’t mean to, but she just didn’t expect it. She let out a loud laugh and adjusted herself in bed, shifting her legs with the joke. “I’m serious. I put in all of this time and was picked from millions by Tinder for you. It’s been a bit and I’ve been looking forward to that part.”

“Maybe I’m old fashioned, but I was thinking of a date, first. If that’s, okay, of course?”

“A whole date?” Clarke sighed.

“I’m sorry that I make you put effort into getting laid, Clarke.”

“Well what do you have in mind, hot stuff?”

“Drinks?”

“I can do drinks.”

“And if it goes well, who knows. But for now, just meeting up for drinks sounds like enough.”

“You won’t be too tired?”

“I’ll bounce back,” she smiled, hearing another yawn. “I should let you sleep.”

“No, no,” the mildly intoxicated girl dismissed, shaking her head and pulling up the blankets a bit more. “I want to hear more of your voice.”

“Are you serious?”

“Please?”

“Fine,” Lexa gave in, almost too easily. “But only for a little. Just don’t fall in love with me.”

“It’s all fun and games until someone is broken hearted.”

* * *

A little turned into over three hours. It flew by in record time, passing in many words and questions and laughs, and Clarke was taken with the soft chuckle she could earn, and she was enamoured with the way that Lexa’s stories were cute and funny and perfect.

It didn’t matter that she couldn’t get the sleep she deserved, or that she was unbothered by how tired she was. Exhaustion was a close friend at that point in her life.

What really mattered was that she was going to meet Lexa Woods in a few hours. Except Lexa Woods had, for the most part but not entirely, ceased to be the Lexa Woods. Instead, she was just Lexa. For the past three weeks, She was a girl who made Clarke laugh, she was someone who made her smile, she was someone who made her be genuine and honest and confide in a complete stranger.

For some reason, after just three weeks, Clarke realized that she’d sent more text messages to Lexa than to anyone else in the past few years, combined. She showed her pictures and her work. She’d talked to her about her family and her thoughts and even said very flirty drunken things. There was a novels worth of stuff.

And in return she got little glimpses into a very private person’s life. Quick pictures of her holidays on the beach, gratuitous pictures of working out and sunsets and the scenery and also legs that were tanning and silly faces while cooking or playing with the nephew. She got stories of her life and weird things she’d encountered. Clarke even got bits of songs, just bits, but still. There was always something she never got though, secret things that she understood why questions were brushed off. Clarke could ruin Lexa if she knew too much, and that must be terrifying to think.

_Black Dog Bar on Fifth at nine?_

_Did you sleep at all? Are you even in the continental US yet?_

Clarke wiggled in her bed, excited at the prospect of it. She was going to get drinks with the outlandishly gorgeous girl with the sexy voice that she now memorized.

_I slept on the plane. And I’m here. Just one more flight, and I’ll sleep more._

_We can reschedule. You’ll have jet lag._

It was a half-hearted offer. Clarke was looking forward to meeting. She held her breath and let her phone drop to her chest. With a groan she rubbed her face and waited for the ding.

_If you’re having second thoughts, that’s okay. But I’d love to meet for drinks._

_If you’re sure, I’m sure._

_I’m very sure._

_Good, me too._

Clarke squealed into her pillow and finally got out of bed, unable to sit still enough. There wasn’t really anywhere else to go, but she did need to find Raven to help pick out clothes, and strategize. She certainly didn’t have enough brain power to handle it herself.

Already in the afternoon, she sent off a text to make plans with her friend while she paced around through her apartment.

_You seem like you’d be a good cure for jet lag._

_I’ve been called many things, but that is a new one. Still accurate though. I’ll see you tonight, Lexa. Black Dog. Nine. I’ll be the one drinking stiff drinks in the corner to work up some nerve._

Clarke looked around her apartment, wondering if she’d be hosting someone. Black Dog was across the city, and she assumed closer to Lexa’s place. But what if a rockstar didn’t want anyone to know where she lived? There was too much to clean; she’d never have time.

_Don’t be nervous. We might hate each other. We’re certainly forbidden from falling in love. If anything, you’ll just be a girl in this port for me._

_If only you actually had girls in every port. Then it’d be much less pressure._

_To be fair, you’re a lot of work and upkeep._

_You’re right._

_Tonight. Don’t overthink it, okay?_

_Done._

That was a lie. Clarke had been overthinking every single word of their entire correspondance, or at least she was in hindsight.

By the time she met Raven at their coffee shop, she was reconsidering it all. There was nothing left to do but worry and fret. She matched with what she thought was a catfish, and now suddenly, she was going on a date with Lexa Woods. Lexa Woods who had already won awards, who dated models, who fucked actresses, who travelled the world, who had millions of followers on every outlet of social media. It wasn’t real, and she was just a bartender who had a terrible internship and struggled to take pictures for a living. How did those two people meet on a random dating app and actually have things to talk about?

“You’re freaking out, aren’t you?” Raven grinned as she drank the coffee her friend bribed her with to come.

Around them, the mildly busy shop murmured to itself, not too concerned with anyone other than themselves. In Clarke’s head, it was T-minus four hours until D-day.

“No, no. I’m fine.”

“You broke up with Finn a year ago. From what I’ve seen, Lexa is nice and relatively normal. Don’t plan out the future, just take it as it comes.”

“Easier said than done,” Clarke snorted.

“What’s so hard to believe about her liking you?”

“I don’t want anyone to like me.”

“Seriously?” Raven snorted as Clarke sipped her coffee.

Every table was taken as the morning gave way to night, and all those who didn’t know what to do after Christmas sat around and waited for the new year. It was that lull of a week that seemed removed from time and space. There was slush and salt outside, covering the world in mushy black sludge or caking it in dense white powder, but inside the coffee shop, it was warm and Clarke felt like she had a place to situate herself in the whirlwind of the holidays.

She had a date with the girl slated to headline the New Years Eve party downtown. That was insane to her.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she warned.

“You’ve texted her nonstop, and not even flirty stuff the whole time. No one can flirt the whole time. And why would you flirt if you weren’t a little lonely and ready to move on? You want her to like you.”

“I was bored.”

“You’re allowed to want her.”

The worst part about being friends with Raven was knowing that she was right, all of the time. There was no sugar-coating anything. There were simply facts and truths, no matter how you were feeling about it. Clarke needed it,but she dreaded it. If anyone could make her figure things out and not feel overwhelmed, it was Raven.

“I don’t want to date anyone,” Clarke repeated. “I have a five year plan, and I’m not going to ruin it for someone who is all over the place and not ready for anything.”

“Then at least fuck her!” The coffee shop got a little quiet as Raven raised her voice in utter anguish, already annoyed. “Sorry.”

“I don’t know if we’ll make it to that.”

At first, there’d been lots of nerve. Weeks ago, the first few nights, Clarke was daring, because this wasn’t a possibility. At some point, Lexa would grow bored and jet off to London and find a groupie or something, however it worked. Then it got real– real quick.

“Here’s the plan,” Raven decided, leaning forward like it was all business. “You go have two drinks. During those drinks, you ask yourself if you want to sleep with her. If no, you get another drink and text me to rescue you. If you do, then,” she grinned, “You tell her to forget the next drink and have it at her place.”

“I can do two drinks.”

“Now what are you going to wear?”

“Probably the blue dress–”

“That’s your job interview dress,” Raven crinkled her nose in disgust. “No way. You have to wear something that makes her want to bone you in the bar.”

“It’s a casual place.”

“Ugh, that’s not the point,” she raised her voice again, earning more looks. “Sorry.”

“God, I’m so rusty at this. Remember me in college?” Clarke groaned, letting her head flop to the table in utter defeat. “I used to be fun and know how to do this.”

“That wasn’t even two year ago.”

“That’s even worse.”

With little else she could do, Raven sipped her coffee and watched the disaster unfurl before her with a smile. She certainly hadn’t expected such entertainment from her friend, but now that she had it, it was fun enough.

“It’s going to be fine,” she promised, petting Clarke’s hair and earning a sob.

* * *

“Hi, I’m Lexa,” she said, grinning wide and nerves apparent. “No, that’s dumb,” she shook her head, looking at herself in the mirror. “Hey, Clarke, nice to finally meet you,” Lexa tried again, moving her head awkwardly and suddenly forgetting how to have words. “Dammit.”

“Wow, are you rehearsing?” Anya chuckled as she leaned against the doorway of the bathroom, amused by the display that’d been going on for about ten full minutes.

“What? I’m not. I’m just… I was getting ready.”

To cover the lie, she turned on the water and quickly turned it off, shaking her head and bracing herself on the sink. She yawned slightly and shook her head. This was the first time she regretted living a few floors above her sister. Most of the time it meant she got someone to drop off food and field a lot of the problems, it meant that she got to pretend to be a babysitter and help her sister out.

But at that exact moment, she was kind of annoyed.

“You… You really like this girl, don’t you?”

Without meaning to, Lexa groaned, and pushed past her sister, grabbing her jacket from the bed, ignoring the question. Of course, few things were more relentless than her sister.

“I don’t even know her.”

“No no, this is good, Lex,” Anya promised, following so quickly that she was certain she’d run into her. “This is so good.”

“I don’t like her. We’ve talked a few times,” Lexa shrugged as she checked her phone again and shoved it in her pocket. “We did agree to at least have sex, so Tinder’s numbers don’t fall.”

“As long as you’ve discussed the important things.”

Lexa paused in her kitchen and looked around, as if she was forgetting everything, when all that mattered was her phone. There wasn’t much to it, still. After travelling, she still had some suitcases stacked in the living room and bags tossed on the table. There was a big empty space that was supposed to be a dining room, though Lexa just had an old rug and a bunch of guitars and some old recording equipment. Her interior designer said it was tacky, but she didn’t care.

The city was bright and covered in snow as it continued to fall. It was almost the end of a rebuilding year, and Lexa was sick of thinking. There was snow and lights and holiday festiveness still being wrung out in the streets, and so that was all she could think about.

“Please don’t give me a lecture. I’m being smart about it,” she sighed, her shoulders drooping slightly as she met her sister’s eyes. “I’m… I’m doing better. I’m okay.”

“Are you going to a meeting?”

“Tomorrow evening.”

“If you need me, you’ll call.”

“I’m a twenty-six year old adult who owns this place and has a world tour coming up. I think I can handle a date, Anya,” Lexa rolled her eyes as she shrugged on her coat.

“You haven’t been on a date in like three years.”

“I was seeing someone.”

“And she was the worst.”

“I’m smart. I’m good. I swear.”

“You’re allowed to liker her.”

“Okay, I’m leaving,” Lexa shook her head and smiled. “Go lay down drums on that new track I was working on or you know, like, raise your kid, or something.”

“I can multitask and still have time to meddle in your personal life!”

“Joy.”

* * *

The bar was full, but a welcomed warmth after the trek across the city. It wasn’t ritzy or too nice, but it was different than any place Clarke would have picked. People mingled at tables, filling up all space, but still, she pushed forward as she tugged at her coat and attempted to fix her hair from the wind and the snow outside.

She was early, but she couldn’t help it. For some reason, she practically fret the entire trip across town, debating what to wear, how to do her hair, when to arrive. It took all of Raven’s patience to push her out of the nest and into the air on her own.

“Hey, can I have a gin and tonic,” Clarke managed to snag a bartender. “Oh, and a shot of whatever the equivalent of a Xanax might be tonight.”

“Rough night?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“Sounds interesting,” he grinned as he poured.

“Meeting a first date tonight,” Clarke nodded, swallowing thickly as she pulled up a chair. “Insert boring, tragic ex story here, and hence why I’m nervous. Actually, that’s not the only reason, but the only one that I can say.”

For a second, the bartender paused and stared at her before sliding across a shot.

“Yeah, you’re going to need this. On me.”

“Thanks.”

It burned in a good way, and Clarke hoped that it would help. She sipped at the other drink as soon as he gave it to her and she searched the crowd just in case. She was early. Early early. About forty-five minutes early. But just in case.

 _What if I get drunk before she gets here?_ She messaged her best friend.

 _Do not do that_ , Raven answered.

Solid advice, Clarke realized, removing the straw from her mouth and setting the half-empty drink down a second later. Instead, she relegated herself to scrolling aimlessly on the internet, and looking around every few seconds.

“You came early,” a voice slipped beside her, and for a second, Clarke couldn’t look up. She couldn’t swallow either, but that was a problem for another day.

“So did you.”

The first thing that Clarke saw was the smirk and slight blush. Then she kept looking and met Lexa’s eyes. And as someone who was just rocking the windswept and soggy look, she never imagined someone could look possibly inhuman while rocking it– and then Lexa existed.

It would have been easier to describe what water tasted like, or why the smell of oranges reminded her of her old neighbor growing up, or how the smell of chlorine was comforting, than trying to describe what being so close to Lexa did to her senses.

There was a long, long pause, as they both took stock of the other, while unable to look away from the intense look between them. Too long of a pause, that was for certain.

And Clarke knew she was done.

Sometimes there are just those moments that happen in life, the ones that change everything. Sometimes you can see them, feel them, know what they are. Sometimes they are subtle, tiny, insignificant little moments that you miss, and then explode much later. This though, this moment, in the warm bar with all of the people that suddenly disappeared, Clarke knew this moment was going to do something in her life, though she wasn’t certain what just yet, which was where her fear really stemmed.

“Hi. I’m Lexa,” she finally said, extending her hand.

“Hi.”

Clarke took her hand and shook it for a second.

“You’re not reconsidering, are you? Do I make that bad of an impression in person?”

“Yeah, it’s not too good so far,” Clarke smiled and sipped her drink.

She liked Lexa’s smile as she took a seat and signalled for the bartender.

“I was afraid of that. I thought we might have peaked about a week ago. Oh well.”

“We tried right?”

“Hold on, let me try again,” Lexa turned around and turned back. “Hey, I’m Lexa. Yes, that Lexa.” Her grin was cheesy, and her cocked eyebrow was outlandish, but it made her laugh.

“Hey, the whole rockstar thing doesn’t work on me,” Clarke teased. “I saw a picture of you baking cookies with your nephew. I believe a turtle-themed apron was involved.”

“Those were alligators, thank you.”

“My mistake.”

She didn’t mean to, but she just watched Lexa, and enjoyed her smile. For some reason, all Clarke could think about was how everything else kind of melted away. Everything she built up in her head. Just five minutes there, and she felt something really good, and it was just what she needed.


	4. Chapter 4

By the time the bartender arrived for the second round, everything fell into place. The chatter of the pub and the closeness of the two in their stools was enough to disorient anyone, but for Lexa it was absolutely overwhelming. She felt very new to all of it, as if her restart just a few months ago washed away everything.

There was flirting, that was true. But there was also a lot of gazing, plain and simple. Lexa couldn’t stop it. She knew Clarke was pretty, but in person was just a different level to things. She had those eyes that were so blue, it was like the sky was right there. And she had this laugh, where she pushed her hand onto her chest to keep herself from shouting. More importantly, she had that gravel voice and those lips and that mind that had a ridiculously fast computing time in the comeback department.

After the first drink, Clarke was opening up and they were dancing, in a way. They danced around each other and they danced around topics. But Lexa saw Clarke watch her as she bit the straw to her water. She knew that she’d won. She knew that she’d lost.

“Yeah, I would hate you if you were sitting at my bar.”

“Why’s that?” Lexa grinned and sipped her water.

It wasn’t really supposed to be a smile, but she watched Clarke’s eyes move to her lips and linger there for longer than necessary. It was a smile of victory. Clarke was smart and funny and ridiculously easy to talk to, but she wasn’t supposed to be so damn gorgeous in person. That was not part of this whole plan Lexa had in her head to not jump into anything.

“Packed bar, and you’re in a prime seat. You’re not ordering anything, so I’m not making any tips on you. Are you afraid I’ll take advantage of you if you get a drink?”

“I’m an addict, Clarke. I don’t drink.”

Clarke furrowed and Lexa felt tiny, swallowing with her confession, looking away from those eyes that suddenly were mood rings of a few different emotions. So she fiddled with her glass and tried to get the feeling of that word out of her mouth.

“Why the hell did you choose a bar to meet at then?”

There was an anger to her voice that Lexa hadn’t expected. She felt like a puppy as she cocked her head to the side and smiled despite herself. There were many reactions she was afraid of getting when she said that word, the A word, the fact that he was an addict. Anger wasn’t one of them.

“To put you at ease.”

“You’re an idiot.”

The words came out so simply and so succinctly, that the singer chuckled because that was the only thing she could do with a girl like that. Her sister warned her to be careful about who she told. Now she understood why.

“I’m sure you’re right, though I’m not sure why,” Lexa furrowed.

Clarke shook her head again and slid out of her seat after pausing to think for just a moment. She gave Lexa a hard look, as if she was figuring something out, as if she was triple checking her work on a tough math problem. But she nodded slightly to herself and decided.

“Come on. Pay the man. Tip him well.”

“How did being honest result in this endi–”

“I’m not making you sit in a bar as an addict. That’s stupid,” Clarke decided, slipping on her coat. “Beside. I’ve had two drinks, and I’ve decided it’s gone well.”

“I don’t know what that–”

“How far is your place?”

Lexa was absolutely positive she’d never met a girl like Clarke before, and that was saying a lot. She dug in her back pocket and threw some bills on the bar before grabbing her coat and hurrying behind the girl weaving through the bar. Without a second of hesitation, she took the hand that was stretched out toward her, and deep down she knew that there was no going back.

* * *

The city didn’t care at all about either of them. The bar continued to be noisy as they slid out and were met with the winter. It was very different from the warmth of her home just a day ago, but Lexa didn’t mind the chill. It kept her sober.

“I was joking, about the whole sex thing you know,” Lexa offered as they made their way back toward her place.

Clarke kept her grip on Lexa’s hand despite making their way out of the crowded bar. Fingers intertwined, she slowed her pace and took a breath of fresh city air.

“You don’t want to have sex with me?” she asked, as if she were asking as something as mundane as wanting to grab a slice of pizza.

“That’s not… I mean. I wasn’t– The thing. Of course I would. I just didn’t–”

“Easy there,” Clarke chuckled. “You really are much more confident in text form.”

“I’m a bit rusty at all of this. Kind of never really dated or went on a date or not since… I mean. Yeah. I’m going to stop talking forever.”

“I’m going to be in Lexa Wood’s place, so yeah, I’d say I have a few nerves.”

“At least you see it clean, since I haven’t been there to mess it up,” Lexa wagered, oddly relieved at that.

“I can’t imagine you messy.”

“I’m not usually, but when I’m writing or practicing, my dining room looks like a warzone. Papers all over, guitars trailed all through the house. Tiny messes.”

“The dining room?” Clarke cocked her head as they waited at a red light to cross.

“I don’t host many dinners, so I turned it into just guitars and a little recording kind of set up and yeah I sound like a nerd.”

“Totally.”

It didn’t matter. In the dark of the city that was in fact chased away by the multitude of different colors, Clarke looked at Lexa and earned a smile, and if it hadn’t been for the red of the lights and the neon sign behind her, she might have seen a blush.

“Finish telling me about your trip?” Clarke asked as they started off again.

It wasn’t more than a fifteen minute walk to get to Lexa’s, but it passed with them talking and laughing and just being very normal, which Clarke found exceptionally weird and unexpected, though she scolded herself when she realized it. Lexa was normal, and they’d talked all day and night for three weeks. Of course it wasn’t weird.

But they existed within the space between Christmas and New Years, when decorations were starting to be packed up, and people were waiting for something, but also glad things were over. It was a weird time, and she accepted that this was her moment, her time free of time and reality. She was holding hands with someone who played sold out shows in cities and made music videos. It was surreal.

“I really hope my sister isn’t waiting up for me,” Lexa mumbled as she used the key on her door.

“She’d do that?”

“She worries,” she nodded and let Clarke inside.

Free of anyone else, Clarke suddenly found herself in a beautiful apartment that was about the size of six of her own. Only a light in the living room was on, but she could tell she wasn’t far off from imagining that Lexa was neat. Everything had clean lines, there was lots of space as it was significantly under-decorated. Spartan, in the truest sense of the word, but it fit Lexa, Clarke thought. Or at least the Lexa that she knew.

Lexa tossed her keys on the table and shoved her hands in her back pockets as Clarke took it all in. She was suddenly aware of everything in her home, and regret every decision.

“Holy shit, those are Grammys,” Clarke muttered as she looked at the bookshelf and the knicknacks that complimented a rather large record collection.

“I won a Nick Blimp. I think that is my favorite. I haven’t found that box yet though, or my decorator hid it from me, which is more likely,” Lexa smiled to herself as she watched someone move through her apartment.

This was a new space. No one had been to it, not friends, not family, not coworkers, not even the band. It was new and clean and a new start. To have someone in it so suddenly was a bit jarring to her, though she supposed it was a good thing. She liked the way Clarke was seeing her, this new person. A new person who got girls like Clarke to talk to them for hours on the phone despite time differences. She didn’t know who Lexa was before, and there was freedom in that.

“You never told me you were an addict,” Clarke mentioned finally as she surveyed the guitars and the view from the floor to ceiling windows that looked out on the city.

“Not really something I talk about often. Kind of a new development, too.”

“I would have never agreed to go to the bar with you had I known.”

“Well that’s a little harsh,” Lexa cocked her head and shoved her hands in her pockets again.

“I mean I would have insisted we meet somewhere else,” Clarke sighed as she turned back towards the figure in the middle of the room. “Is that why you don’t talk about the past year of your life?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m very ashamed of how I acted. I just… I fell for a girl and I was addicted to her, and then the stress and it all. I got sucked in. I let myself get sucked into a deep, deep hole,” Lexa tried to explain, though it all felt wrong. She’d never had to talk to anyone beside her sister and sponsor, so she hadn’t formulated the right words yet. “I made some bad decisions, and I know my limits now.”

“Are you afraid of me?” Clarke asked. She took a step closer and waited, for some reason she wasn’t able to move anywhere else. “Because I would never let you be or do anything–”

“I’m not afraid of you. I told you, I’m already in love with you.”

With a daring step forward, Lexa smiled and waited for Clarke to run in the opposite direction. It was the biggest surprise when she didn’t.

“I warned you not to do that.”

“Right, right. I forgot,” she smiled. “Sorry.”

“That’s alright. Just don’t let it happen again.”

Lexa took the final step and stood in front of Clarke, her hands still shoved in her pockets, still locked up and not able to reach out and touch fire. She couldn’t help but look at her lips and look at her tongue as it darted out to wet them.

“I can’t believe I met you on a stupid app.”

“I can’t believe my pick up lines worked.”

“I am afraid of you,” Lexa swallowed the confession as much as she could, though it still came out.

Clarke met her eyes and just stared at her for being so honest. No one was ever that honest. But Lexa had deep, dark eyes that were rimmed with the faintest green, and she had this small, almost not there, smile on the farthest corners of her lips.

“Please don’t be.”

“Not really the rockstar experience you expected, I bet,” Lexa tried to joke it away, but she couldn’t.

Clarke wouldn’t stop looking at her, and she felt a hand on her neck and chest and then her jaw.

“It’s the Lexa experience I was kind of hoping for,” Clarke corrected.

It was slow, both stuttering a few times as they leaned together. And just as she feared, the moment she kissed her, Clarke knew she was in trouble. That didn’t stop her from leaning closer, nor did it stop her from rising to her tiptoes as she chased more lips. If anything, it just spurred her closer, relaxing into the kiss as if it were everything she’d dreamt about for the past three weeks.

Hands slid to Clarke’s waist, moved along her ribs, and just like that, she was putty in Lexa’s hand. It took a second to regain her train of thought.

“I assume you have a bedroom?” Clarke ventured when she finally pulled away.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want–”

“Definitely,” Lexa nodded, half out of breath, completely intoxicated and stunned by the bold girl that used to make bad jokes and quote weird old comedies over text message.

She couldn’t quite grasp the concept that she hadn’t expected Clarke. She never expected the eyes and the smile and her kisses to be so damn good that she felt them deep in her tug and they sent little electric jolts the whole way to her toes. Lexa wasn’t sure what she expected, just that it wasn’t supposed to feel so natural. But it did.

“I just need to know one thing,” Lexa grinned.

“What’s that?”

“How do you like your eggs cooked in the morning?”

Lexa earned a laugh, and that was all she really wanted. It made her feel a little less dirty about an internet hook up, it made it feel real, and it was something she very much liked hearing. Clarke kissed her once more, just to make sure, and when they separated, she knew what she wanted.

“Surprise me,” Clarke smiled.

* * *

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“No, I mean it. Wow.”

Lexa smiled to herself and turned her head to look at the girl beside her that was currently trying to catch her breath as well. She felt the sweat starting to cool already on her own skin, and she saw Clarke push away blonde hair that stuck to her forehead and neck.

There were clothes on the floor, flung in all directions in the flurry that came as soon as they made it to the bedroom. Lexa couldn’t help herself. Clarke was sexy and had these cute little noises. But for the first time in a few hours, she regained some of her sense and tried to catch her breath from the whirlwind that suddenly entered her life.

“So do we just let Tinder know… or do they track this?” Lexa smiled and looked back toward the ceiling.

“I don’t know,” Clarke chuckled. “I’ve never used it before.”

“Remember when you made me prove that I was me?”

“Thank goodness you did.”

Lexa closed her eyes and adjusted slightly in the bed. It was too big for just her, but having someone in it was very different and foreign. They didn’t touch, but just laid there until the blood stopped thumping in their ears.

She turned her head and looked at Clarke once more, unable to stop herself. This time though, she met blue eyes and messy hair and the most contented smile. It was a relief that she hadn’t forgotten how to do things.

“So do you want to do that again?” Lexa smirked, her hand splayed on her own stomach as her breathing evened.

“I really do,” Clarke laughed, shaking her head to herself. “You’re quite good for being rusty.”

“Thanks. But I think I can do better,” she decided, rolling over and sliding her leg between Clarke’s thighs.

“Tough act to follow honestly.”

She didn’t wait, but went about the task at hand, her hand skating along Clarke’s side until it slid over her chest and palmed at her breast. She kissed her again, enjoying the feeling of tongue and lips.

“You’re beautiful,” Lexa whispered.

There wasn’t time for new words. Clarke knotted her fingers in Lexa’s hair and kissed her back.

* * *

Just the day before, Lexa had been in a different country, in a different hemisphere, in a different time zone, and all of a sudden, she was in bed with the girl that sent her pictures of herself with messy hair and covered in paint after shooting a protest down by the docks.

None of that mattered. Lexa couldn’t sleep, even if she didn’t want to miss a moment of the girl who had very strong opinions about ice cream choices. She was too distracted and happy and alive, and usually she had to do a few different types of drugs to match the feeling of this actual moment in her life. So she savored it.

“My mom just knows that I didn’t finish college,” Clarke sighed as fingertips ran along her hip. She rubbed her sore thighs together as she shifted. “That’s all she wants to know.”

“You saw her for Christmas though.”

“And it was fine. We keep it civil. It’s very quiet.”

“I can’t imagine it,” Lexa shook her head and yawned. She trailed her fingers up along a naked back. “My grandma pulls out all of the stops, and then we have the entire extended family together. It’s overwhelming.”

“My dad used to do that,” Clarke chuckled. “He loved the holidays.”

“It’s been two years?”

“Yeah. How long for you?”

There was a small smile on Lexa’s face. Clarke saw it happen as she stretched on her back and reached above her head, wincing with the soreness that accumulated in her muscles. Clarke did the opposite though, leaning forward and running her palm along Lexa’s ribs, holding the breath she took in.

“My parents died when I was ten.”

“That’s a while.”

“Yeah, you just get used to it. You have that to look forward to, I guess.”

“Thanks.”

“After I messed everything up, I really started to like my family. No one sticks around like them,” Lexa remembered. She tucked her arm behind her head and tilted her head back to the girl in her bed who pushed harder into her.

“What happened?” Lexa looked over at Clarke and pushed her hair up a bit, out of her face. “Your mouth was between my legs and your afraid to talk to me now?”

“I’d rather do that, if we’re being honest,” she smirked.

Clarke kissed her because that was all she could do. She liked her puffy lips, and she liked that she was naked. The light from the city outside and the candles in the bedroom were just enough to see bruises starting to form on neck and chest. Clarke was proud of that. She was very turned on with hall of it.

“Are you looking to break a record or something?”

“Want to try?” Lexa wiggled her eyebrows.

With a roll of her eyes and shake of her head, Clarke shifted on top of her, straddling the musician, unashamed by how wet she still and already was.

“Tell me all of your secrets. I’m just a stranger on the internet.”

Fully naked and very beautiful, Lexa swallowed and watched Clarke adjust. She placed her hands on her hips and smirked again at the bruise on her neck and the scratch on her ribs that was from when Lexa couldn’t cling hard enough.

“Me and Anya would skip classes to play. We got our big break when I was eighteen. I didn’t know anything. I met a pretty girl, and she showed me things that I thought I was supposed to do. Powder that kept me up at night, booze that made me tingle, pills that made me sleep, pills that made me relax. I was a bad person, Clarke.”

“I don’t know if I believe that.”

“I think I just never figured out what I was supposed to be. And I made a lot of bad decisions. It kind of fell on Anya’s shoulders to cover, and she told me to get my shit together or she was done. And then she found me one morning, pretty bad off, barely answering. At the bottom of it though, I can’t lose music. I can’t blame Costia, only myself.”

“So you don’t drink.”

“Nope. Not for six months, three weeks, and four days.”

“That’s impressive.”

“You know what’s more impressive?” Lexa grinned and flipped them over. “I haven’t slept in sixteen hours and I want nothing more than to make you come again.”

“I think six months sober is more impressive.”

“You haven’t seen what I’m about to do to you.”

In the late hour of the night, only Clarke’s laugh that cut off into a moan echoed.

* * *

When Lexa woke, it happened slowly at first and then suddenly, all at once. Every thought pummeled her brain and left her disoriented. The sheets were tangled in her legs, the pillows tossed all over, and for the life of her, Lexa couldn’t figure out what happened and why she was alone.

Despite the dry mouth, the real concern of her day was the ache in her neck, and the subsequent bruise she encountered there when she went to rub it, and the fact that the sun was sitting at a weird angle, and it certainly wasn’t morning any longer.

“What the fuck?” Lexa whispered to herself as she sat up and squinted at the windows and then around the room.

And then she realized that Clarke was missing, that she somehow fell asleep at some point after orgasms and staying awake listening to the gentle cadence of Clarke’s voice as she told her about some of her photography projects. Lexa woke to an empty bed and she realized she’d read too much into the entire night. She’d warned herself not to do something like that, and she thought she’d succeeded. Until she woke up.

Still, clothes were all over the place. Still, she remembered what happened the night before, and made a note to get her sheets changed as soon as possible.

Her clock said it was after two, and she winced as she moved to stand up and dig out some clothes, but her legs wouldn’t move. She’d effectively slept too much and was now exhausted again. But as she sat there and stretched her neck, Lexa let her other senses come back to her. The faint sound of music filtered in from the living room, and she smiled and the sinking feeling of a million butterflies dying in her stomach burst back to life with the idea that Clarke hadn’t just left.

With a slightly renewed sense of purpose and a huge yawn, Lexa slid on some clothes from her suitcase, which remained unpacked on the floor, and made her way out to the living room, curious as to what she was going to find.

Bare feet padding along as she tugged up some sweatpants, Lexa felt her body relax as she found a newly familiar girl sitting in her favorite chair, reading and oblivious. A mug of coffee and the remnants of a peeled orange sat on the floor beside her as she flipped a page.

Her hair was a mess, all wavy and falling out of a sloppy bun. A leg hung over the arm of the chair that faced the window and felt like sitting on the edge of the moon. There was even a small hum along with the record, which did nothing to help Lexa feel anything but sleepy.

“You stayed,” Lexa grinned as she leaned against the kitchen counter.

“I hope that’s okay,” Clarke sat up a little bit. “I didn’t have anything to do today, and it felt kind of weird to just sneak out.”

“It’s more than okay.”

“It was mostly for you. The cabinets are bare and I didn’t want you to starve. Figured I owed you a proper date.”

“Last night wasn’t proper?” she chuckled and leaned over the chair, kissing Clarke’s cheek, and then nose, and then lips and then chin.

“Not one part of it,” Clarke insisted.

“I’m sorry I slept so late. I didn’t mean to keep you–”

“You really needed it.”

Lexa just kept smiling and sat down on the floor against the window, looking back at the girl in her chair. All she got back was a similar glance and a small smile.

“You stayed.”

“Yeah.”

“More than Tinder?”

“Yeah.”

Lexa smiled a little wider and ducked her head to hide it as she stretched her legs out. Clarke fiddled with the edges of the book’s pages and watched the sun shifting towards the west.

“I was looking forward to that orange,” Lexa teased, to ease the quiet that enveloped them.

“I’ll buy you one on the way to lunch or dinner.”

“Alright.”

“Alright.”

They shared a look, as if they hadn’t spent the night completely naked and saying things they were afraid to say to other people in the daylight, as if they hadn’t already known the truth about their arrangement, as if it were all a revelation.

Lexa broke the glance first. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, desperate to remember this high.


	5. Chapter 5

New York City during the holiday season was perhaps the best place to be in the entire world. Snow and a giant park covered in chattering teeth, laughing kids, and ice skating. Decorations and department stores cloaked in a winter wonderland. All manner of chivalry and season’s tidings remained up an extra week in preparation for the new year, and it was in this awkward, liminal space in which Lexa decided to spend as much time with her Tinder date as humanly possible.

This, of course, was naturally made more difficult by the aforementioned New Year’s Eve. Rehearsals and press and a lot of preparing went into making the show great. The entire world would be watching. There couldn’t be any mistakes, and Lexa took that very seriously. Even with her head swirling with gum drop kisses and the feelings that came with the season and the blonde who slept in her bed while she went for her morning workouts.

The day after meeting Clarke, things fell into a kind of rhythm in that they agreed to see each other again, and again, and again, constantly making the next plan before the current one ended. It was a safeguard against disappearing.

 _I’m just saying. I was really looking forward to that orange._ Lexa typed and chuckled to herself as she walked down the long hall toward the practice studio.

_Try not to succumb to scurvy and I’ll bring you a replacement after work if you want ._

_What’s Tinder’s policy on third dates?_

_Completely fine if they involve fruit ._

“Wow, look at that shit-eating grin. I like it,” Anya interrupted her sisters texting.

“Huh?”

“Is this Clarke?” she teased and balanced the baby on her hip. “I bet it’s Clarke. She’s so dreamy and hot. She’s the dreamiest dreamboat of them all.”

Lexa felt her ears burn red despite her sister’s annoyingly immature teasing. She shoved her phone into her pocket and tried to find some kind of stoicism, though that was very difficult because her sister was right. She had the big grin and the happy demeanor because of Clarke, and she wanted very badly to not become an addict to something else.

“It’s just sex.”

“Is it?”

Thankfully, they made it to the rehearsal space at the end of the corridor and Lexa escaped the question. The nanny met them there, distracting Anya with questions, allowing her sister to slip away and move toward her guitars.

_Movie tonight?_

She typed, oddly nervous at the request. 

_That’ll be twice in three days, Woods. Mighty forward of you._

_You stole my orange._

_Pick me up at eight._

Victorious and on cloud nine, Lexa slipped the strap over her shoulder and began tuning, her mind very far away from the task at hand for a few more seconds as she went through the motions.

Deep down, she knew her sister was just teasing. There was absolutely nothing wrong with it being just sex. But in the back of her head, there was this nagging feeling of being absolutely afraid that the feeling she had, the need to see Clarke, was something like a craving, like a drug. If it was just sex, then she wanted it constantly.

“Hey, you good?” Anya called as Lexa paused, deep in thought at the microphone after she’d been mic’d.

“What? Yeah, I’m– yeah,” she nodded and offered a weak smile. “All good. Let’s get this wrapped up.”

“Special date tonight?” “No.”

With a sigh, Lexa returned to the mic that faced the practice stage and waited for the choreographer to start. Behind her, her sister sat at the drums and twirled a stick with a smile. She could tell it by her sisters shoulders, by the way she held herself, how important it was.

* * *

The snow came again. It allowed just a day of reprieve before churning out another few inches, re-covering the almost fully swept city in another layer. The floor to ceiling windows of the condo were filled with white flecks, all swirling around in the evening sky. Outside, the weather was freezing and bitter, the biting kind of cold that made skin ache and crack after just an instant. It cut right through everything.

But inside– inside the weather was decidedly more toasty.

Forgotten on the counter, take-out containers waited to be dealt with and wine glasses remained almost empty. The lights were limited to candles and the fireplace, with the mood decidedly set and the atmosphere matching.

Lexa kissed again at Clarke’s neck, earning a roll of hips against her lap. She liked kissing Clarke’s neck. It made her wiggle and groan and grind, which was a beautiful sight to behold

and feel. She liked the feeling of all of it, sober. She forgot what life was like after coming out of the haze of the past few years, but everything was new again, everything was alive. Clarke was a thunderbolt, finally waking up this numbness that lived now in Lexa’s dead nerves.

Pressed against Lexa, Clarke knotted her eyes closed and moaned, deep and needy, against the musician’s ear, clutching at her neck and shoulders, rooting her hand in her hair. Clarke couldn’t remember making out so hard since high school, but kissing Lexa was just so much fun. There was something inherently naughty about it, and she was just so damn good at it.

_Beep beep beep beep._

“Five more minutes,” Lexa whispered, kissing lower until she found clavicle. Her hands moved

as well, sliding lower around Clarke’s hips. “We said that ten minutes ago.”

Clarke’s complaint went ignored, mostly by herself and partially by Lexa. Slow and steady, Lexa continued her exploration of all things related to making Clarke squirm and her breath hitch. It was purely scientific and not done for her own pleasure at all.

The crux of the issue rested in the fact that Lexa was an ass-man, and Clarke had a particularly great one.

“I wish you weren’t so good at this,” Clarke groaned, coming up for air and pushing against Lexa’s shoulders.

The musician let her head lull back on the couch, surveying the damage she’d done to Clarke’s neck and lips, hands firmly rooted and not at all ready to let go of the girl in her lap. The pictures from her Tinder profile didn’t compare at all to the firecracker that Lexa found herself holding. She was very pretty and too sexy, but real sexy, real sensual, perhaps, was the real word for it. As embarrassing as it was to admit, Lexa had slept with too many people. All gorgeous in their own way, all sexy. But Clarke was… she was… she was a person, a real person and not faceless or clouded in drugs or drinks.

“What’s that?” Lexa grinned.

Clarke rolled her eyes and held Lexa’s chin in her hand wiggling it to the side in a desperate attempt to shake the smile away like an etch-a-sketch.

“You know what.”

“Would you rather go to work, or stay here for the night?”

“What I’d rather do and what I have to do are two very different things.”

“Call in sick,” Lexa smiled again as Clarke began to disentangle herself, removing herself from the lap of the temptress.

“Right, a case of the rockstar sexitis.”

“You should see a doctor.”

“You should work on some songs. I expect a ballad written for me and my ass by tomorrow.”

“That’s kind of asking a lot for a Tinder date,” Lexa shrugged.

“That was three days ago. By now I suspect it’s a little more than that,” Clarke muttered as she slipped on her shoes and started to fix some make up in the mirror. “Really, Lexa? This?”

From the couch, Lexa watched victoriously as Clarke stretched her neck and made a face at the bruise forming there.

“You weren’t complaining two minutes ago.”  
“Which brings me back to my original argument that I wish you weren’t so good at it.”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to fall in love,” Lexa teased, finally pushing herself up from the couch, something she was suddenly grateful that her designer made her buy.

“I lust you, and that is all.” “Fair enough.”

Lexa poured herself a glass of water in the kitchen and began tinkering with her phone while Clarke finished gathering herself. She scrolled past a few texts and some reminders her assistant needed approvals for by morning. Life didn’t stop, but she sure as hell liked pretending it did.

“I’m going to be late,” Clarke groaned, hurring to grab her coat. “Worth it I hope.”

“Very,” she smiled, pausing to kiss Lexa as they met at the door. “I’m somewhat unsatisfied though. Maybe you could rectify that tomorrow?”

“Eagerly. I’ll text you.”  
“Good,” Clarke smiled, kissing her again. “Have a nice night.” “You too.”

As soon as the door was shut, Lexa felt a little weird. She wasn’t sure why, just that she pulled out her phone, eager to text Clarke already. Instead, she messaged her sponsor and immediately opened the door and walked barefoot out into the hallway.

Typing on her phone, Clarke didn’t look up until Lexa was within arms length and the elevator dinged, signifying its arrival on one of the highest floors.

“Hey, do you want to come to New Years Eve with me?” Lexa blurted.

“Like, the Times Square one?”

“Yeah, that one. I have to do some stuff, but I leave two days after that, and I’d like to see you.”

“Um, sure.”

“Alright, cool.”

With that Lexa turned around and went back into her apartment leaving an oddly surprised and smiling girl in her wake.

* * *

Clarke’s apartment was tiny. It was one room, tiny. It was possibly smaller than Lexa’s bathroom, and the singer wasn’t particularly sure how she felt about that. But it sure as hell was quaint and cozy, and more importantly, at least for a little while, it was private. If she had to go to Clarke’s to see her, she didn’t mind. It was worth it. Plus, something about the rundown building and single room reminded her of before she’d made it, and she shared a tinier room with her sister.

When the pictures hit, Clarke sunk down into her bed and stared, completely mortified, at the blurry image that loaded on her phone.

Lexa crossed her arms and leaned her hip against the desk in the opposite corner of the room, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It had to, because nothing was supposed to be good for a long time. Everything that was pure and solid had a shelf life.

Nervously, she toyed with her lighter, twirling it around in her fingers, afraid to look at the girl who refused to look anywhere but her phone. It felt like hours, but it was only about ten minutes that it took for Lexa to arrive and break the news. A solid four of them were spent waiting and holding her breath.

“I didn’t even see anyone,” Clarke shook her head and finally looked up. “This is from dinner last night. We were careful. I almost forgot.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“No no, don’t apologize. I’m kind of impressed we made it,” she paused and looked at her watch, “four days.”

Lexa cracked the shadow of a smile and finally stopped fiddling, finally shoving her lighter back in her pocket, but refusing to move an inch more than that.

“Cards on the table?” Lexa asked, earnest and hoping she didn’t have to do it, hoping that right there, Clarke would tell her not to say another word.

“Please.”  
“I was hoping you’d tell me to just lie.” “Lexa.”

“Okay, okay,” she sighed and took a deep breath. On the bed, Clarke looked back at her phone, at the picture that was on the tabloid sites and twitterverse. She turned it off and looked at the pretty girl across from her. “I like you.”

The words came out in a nervous jumble, almost like a question. Lexa shrugged her shoulders and offered a weak smile, her hands rooting and pushing as deep as they could in her pockets.

“I like you a lot, and I think it’s more than Tinder. I know we’ve been joking about it, but I mean it when I say it’s more. This is real. And I like you. .”

“Wow.” “Yeah.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say so many words,” Clarke nodded to herself, amused at the rockstar near her.

“Me neither.”  
“I told you not to fall in love with me. I’m not looking for that.”

“I didn’t say anything about love,” Lexa promised with a wry smile. “Lust only. And something more than just Tinder friends.”

From her spot on the bed, Clarke just watched Lexa come back, away from the shy, honest girl that admitted liking her, to someone with confidence, who knew what she wanted and wanted to get it. Clarke couldn’t admit it yet, but she was already painfully attached, and she was already feeling similar things. But she refused to think about that. The logistics made her pragmatic, and she wasn’t about to get so involved she lost herself again.

But Lexa moved, put her hands on Clarke’s shoulders, straddled her lap and smiled. Hands moved to her hips and she settled there, a firm, honest to goodness smile on her lips.

It was hard to imagine that international best-selling, grammy award-winning, world tour sellout-selling, sex goddess of a rock’n’roller was straddling her being nothing more than Lexa Woods. But Clarke felt herself melt and she felt as if nothing mattered. Gone were the pictures and the world.

“I like you too. It’s very inconvenient for me,” Clarke finally sighed, earning a chuckle. “There are going to be pictures of you.”  
“Okay.”  
“Try not to let it get to you.”

“How about you remind me why I like you so much.”

The smirk was the end of the conversation. Lexa agreed by kissing Clarke. She felt hands grip her hips tighter, but she pressed forward and deepened it, moving to neck and pushing Clarke down in the small bed in the small apartment.

* * *

The basement of the church was oddly fitting, lit only by buzzing fluorescent lights that probably hadn’t been changed since the 70s, with matching wood paneling and Sunday School coloring book pages of biblical heroes acting as wallpaper. Thirty odd ancient metal chairs were arranged like a mock auditorium while not terrible coffee roasted in old metal containers with donuts that teetered on the edge of stale.

From the fourth row, two chairs in from the left, Lexa fiddled with her lighter and adjusted her legs, crossing them and keeping her eyes down. Clad in an old shirt and glasses, Lexa tried to blend in, and for the most part she felt successful.

At first, going to meetings was stressful. There was a fear of being recognized, or worse yet, of failing it all. As disjointed as she was, part of her had trouble admitting the problem was as bad as it actually was, and going to the meetings was nothing more than an inconvenience.

But it wasn’t. They were important.

At first, when she went with her sponsor, Lexa just listened. She didn’t recite the prayer, she didn’t volunteer anything. Instead, she sipped the bad coffee and waited for it to be over. But gradually, as she moved from city to city, she came to depend on the routine and regularity and reminder, especially during the gruelling tour and awards season.

“Are we celebrating any anniversaries? Thirty days?” the leader of the meeting began after the prayer was finished.

A man raised his hand, and Lexa clapped with the others, smiling to herself at the sheepish pride he exhibited. Thirty days was a scary time. The hardest, in Lexa’s opinion. She reached it three times before it stuck.

“Please put your hands up if you’re over a month.” He waited and Lexa kept hers up as he went through the months and then to the years. “Two months? Six months? Nine?” she put her hand down and waited.

Amongst complete strangers, Lexa felt safe and understood. Her sister did her best, her manager did her best, hell, even her friends did their best, but they couldn’t get it. Here, she was anonymous and she was among her peers.

Intently, she listened to people talk, and she fidgeted with her lighter, adjusted in her seat, mulled over everything. It was a nice way to spend an evening, and like her sister said, even if she didn’t speak or find them useful, they left her mindful of herself.

But Lexa wanted to say things, even though she didn’t know how. She just knew that she had to.

“Hi, my name is Lexa and I’m an addict,” she began, waiting for the customary response. Still, she stood there, not used to the words. “I’ve been sober for seven months. But it’s been easy. I’ve had family around, a nice routine. Things are about to change though. They’re going to get more stressful. I’m a little nervous.”

With a heavy sigh, Lexa nodded to herself, still not used to sharing.

“I met someone, too. I’m afraid of a lot of things with her. She feels like an addiction, in some ways, but also I’m afraid of feeling too much. I was addicted to a person and drugs before. This is new, and honest, if that makes sense. I’m rambling–”

“You’re doing fine,” the leader of the meeting promised.

She jerked her eyes toward him, suddenly aware that she was in front of people. IN just a week, she’d be standing on a stage in front of thousands, but in an old church basement surrounded by about fifteen, she was shy.

“I’m being smart. I’m afraid to admit that these feelings I might have for her are different than before. I’m going to be smart about it. I’m going to be honest with her. I’m just grateful that I can feel this way, if that makes sense. Thank you. Thank you, I’m sorry for this.”

“In a mad rush, she sat down and tried to become invisible. She couldn’t even share those thoughts with her sister or herself, but out loud to strangers was important. She was getting better.

“Take your time, work your meetings, and when you’re stressed or feel you might be, remember,” the leader promised, “There’s absolutely no shame in taking a step back and regrouping. That’s how you survive.”

Lexa nodded her head sheepishly and tried to make her heart stop beating so erratically, though that seemed impossible. Her hands were shaking, but she flipped the top of her lighter and closed it before focusing on the newest speaker. She was alive, and she was going to experience things sober now, and she was terrified of it.

* * *

The bar itself wasn’t too busy. Something about the lull that existed in the nothing week between Christmas and New Years meant people just didn’t know what to do with themselves. That and the fact that it was a Tuesday. But the slowness was just torture when more pressing matters existed in the world. In particular, Clarke found herself distracted with the idea of only having a few more hours before potentially never seeing a certain girl again, and she hated wasting her time at a dingy bar with the normal round of Tuesday drunks.

“Can you close up tonight?” she asked, finally, leaning against her best friend.

“You’re on until two,” Raven ignored the question and slid a beer towards a patron.

“We’re dead, and you can handle it.”

For a second, the other bartender considered it before looking at the blonde and earning a big pout and exaggerated please.

“Is this so you can go have amazing sex with a certain rockstar?” “She’s on her way over, and I really want to see her.”

“Oh, so now you want to see her?” she grinned, piquing an eyebrow as she messed with her friend, eager to just hear her admit her feelings.

“She’s leaving soon. I just want to get my time while I can before I wake up from this amazing dream.”

“Admit you like her.”

Clarke stopped in her tracks and stalled as she began to untie her apron. Her friend just smiled victoriously and waited while she mulled over the words, because as terrible as it was, she wasn’t allowing herself to like Lexa, or to even think about liking her. Instead, Clarke did the responsible, adult thing, and repressed it and focused on sex.

She knew it was more than Tinder. They both knew that. But that also left an incredibly impossibly large breadth of which they could define their relationship. If she had to think about it, then it would stop being a dream.

“Obviously,” Clarke shrugged when she regained her wits.

“No,” Raven waited, hand on her hip. “Tell me if it’s serious.”

“THis is stuipd. I just want to see her before she leaves. It’s not a marriage proposal.”

“Clarke, just seeing you go on a date is huge, let alone getting so connected to someone else. I’m just curious if you’re looking into it more than just physical.”

“Yeah, well,” she shrugged and tossed her apron on the counter. “I don’t know. I do like her. I’m terrified, but I like her.”

“Fine. But I want details tomorrow. I have to live vicariously.”  
“You’re the best,” Clarke squealed and hugged her friend, hanging onto her shoulders tightly.

In a hurry, Clarke fired off a text and grabbed her coat, quickly cashing out and leaving extra tips behind for her saint of a coworker. With just two days until New Years, she had a few ideas of how she wanted to spend the night, and to be honest, Raven’s teasing was incredibly on track.

With a permanent smile, Clarke wished Raven goodbye and thanked her again before pushing the door of the bar open with her back and descending into the winter night.

She made it exactly one step before she met Lexa’s eyes and remembered that she wasn’t breathing and that she should probably stop floating sometime, though it didn’t seem particularly likely.

“You’re here,” Clarke smiled, her breath becoming a puff of smoke.

Clad in an old leather jacket, Lexa shoved her hands deeper into the pockets. Clarke was in love with her glasses that fogged up when they kissed and her beanie that covered her ears, keeping her hidden from anyone recognizing her.

“I had a meeting tonight, and I’ve just kind of been walking around,” Lexa shrugged, smiling forming with the introduction of the blonde.

“Good meeting?” “Not bad.”

Neither looked away, but rather took up the entire sidewalk as they smiled and stared at each other, suddenly forgetting their previous fears and instead feeling remarkably content and whole all of a sudden.

“Do you want some company on that walk?” Clarke asked, finally breaking the stalemate. “I was hoping you’d be interested.”  
“Consider me all yours then.”

Lexa chuckled and extended her elbow. Clarke wrapped her arms around Lexa’s and smiled into her chest as she followed along, traipsing out into the night with nowhere to go and anything to say.


	6. Chapter 6

The penthouse was almost quiet, and the bed was almost warm. The sheets were tangled and different layers covered different parts of the body that was left in it while outside, the clouds hung low and thick, obscuring much of the rest of the city. Just the night before, the weather channel said it’d be clear and a bisk, just below freezing for the millions of people set to descend upon the city for a new year and festivities.

Clarke growled and grunted against the light that filtered through the curtains. She shoved her head into the pillow and rolled around, looking for another body, but came up starfished and empty.

It should have been weird to her that she was asleep in a bed that was bigger than her entire apartment in a sparsely, yet ridiculously expensive and well-decorated penthouse. But Lexa’s place was becoming comfortable at an alarming rate, and Clarke didn’t even hesitate to roll her own eyes at herself at the quickness with which she’d semi-coupled.

She chided herself and then sat up in bed, wondering where the girl with wild hair might have gone. There’d been a promise of the best french toast she’d ever had, and Clarke was eager to collect.

With a stretch, Clarke pulled her hair into a ponytail and padded out toward the living room, making her way down the hall, cold toes meeting cold floor. She emerged into the bright, open living room and smiled at the coffee brewing.

More importantly though, she managed to find the girl that was supposed to be in the bed, but now she understood why she was left alone.

Laid out on the floor, a sweaty musician twisted with a medicine ball, moving it from side to side, muscles flexing with each movement. Thankfully, Lexa was wearing headphones, and thankfully, she didn’t hear the sigh of appreciation the new voyeur uttered as she watched for a few moments. Instead, she kept going, doing different movements with her body, sweaty and lean and perfect and hot and sexy and gorgeous and distracting.

It was a dream– surely Clarke dreamt up someone who would look like that, so early in the morning, or any time of day, really. Against the windows, the silhouette stretched up after finishing a particularly high-impact circuit of push ups and curls and lunches or such. Short shorts clung like a second skin. A sports bra showed off ink that often remained hidden.

Clarke was exceptionally attracted to the Tinder date, and she couldn’t quite place why, but she was sure it had something to do with her being a morning person.

“Oh, hey, sorry,” Lexa smiled as she finally turned around and found someone watching her. Sheepishly, she stopped working out and straightened up. “Did I wake you up?”

“No. You’re fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I woke up to an empty bed, but this isn’t so bad to wake up to see.”

“What? Huh?” Lexa furrowed and looked down at herself. “Oh, I see… you’re a perv.”

“You bet that sweet ass I am.”

Far away from the brooding, from the melancholy of her normal, tortured artist state, Lexa laughed and rolled her eyes, toweling off the sweat of her neck and chest. She walked towards the girl leaning against the wall and smirked.

“You’re all sweaty,” Clarke made a face, even though she wrapped her arms around Lexa’s neck as she complained.

“You’re going to be super grossed out when you see me after a concert.”

Hands slid to hips and Lexa pressed closer anyway, finding no actual resistance despite the face made.

“I don’t think you’ll be sweaty tonight. It’s supposed to be below freezing.”

“Oh I’ll be sweaty somehow.”

“So there’s that to look forward to,” Clarke sighed and waited to be kissed.

She wasn’t disappointed, earning a smile pressed against her own just an instant later. Lexa was warm and vibrating, and it was contagious.

“Are you hungry?”

“Starving, but more curious as to why you’re awake and training to avenge someone’s death.”

Again, Lexa smiled warmly and shook her head, making her way toward the kitchen. Clarke trailed behind, admiring the view and the way the muscles of Lexa’s back moved with each step. There might have been words said, but she certainly didn’t hear them.

“I was waiting until you got up to make a smoothie. Do you want one? It’ll look like grass, but it tastes so good, and it’s packed with antioxidants.”

“There was supposed to be french toast,” Clarke furrowed as she sat down on a stool. “That’s the only reason I stayed.”

“The only reason?”

“One of,” she shrugged.

Lexa started pulling things out of her fridge, including, to Clarke’s excitement, ingredients to make breakfast that was much less healthier than a smoothie.

“Do you normally work out all morning when a half-naked girl is in your bed?”

“I normally work out when I want a drink,” Lexa said flippantly. “And I’m going to perform in front of the entire world tonight. That make me a little nervous. So whenever I want a drink, I work out until I can’t think about drinking anything other than water.”

“You must want to drink a lot.”

“Constantly, to be honest,” Lexa grinned. “I’m sorry. No one wants to get unloaded on first thing in the morning. I’m just trying to be open about things.”

“I just meant that… I mean… look at… all of…” Clarke blushed slightly as she gestured toward the near naked girl. “That. You’re just very fit, and must work out often. The math is that you want to drink a lot. But not in a bad way.”

“Kind of a bad way,” she chuckled. “But thank you. Are you done perving?”

“Not even close.”

“You could work out with me next time if you want.”

“Can I just watch?”

“Looking’s free, but touchings going to cost you,” Lexa wiggled her eyebrows and waggled the knife that was peeling fruit.

“Put it on my tab.”

“Racking up quite a bill there, babe,” she murmured, pouring a mug of coffee.

The morning started, somehow, right there. Lexa sipped her smoothie and shared it for a sip before earning a face. Of course that meant she was immediately rushed to start making breakfast properly. And Clarke sat at the stool and watched as breakfast was prepared for her while making enough jokes and small talk to keep the musician distracted.

She’d be okay with more of the working out, but breakfast making was a treasure to enjoy. It didn’t hurt that the french toast was spectacular and Lexa beamed when she got the compliments that poured out of Clarke’s mouth.

“So are you less nervous now that you’ve worked out and made me breakfast?” Clarke ventured as she pushed away her empty plate.

“I’m still plenty nervous.”

“It’s just a concert where you only play two songs or so,” she shrugged.

“Yeah, but you’ll be there,” Lexa murmured into her smoothie. The tips of her ears burned a little warm with the admission.

“I make you want to drink?”

“No… no… it’s just… all of it,” she tried to explain, rubbing her eye and trying to explain but failing. “I’m excited and nervous, but more importantly it’s a new year, and I think it might be a good one.”

“It will be.”

“You still want to come right? I mean, I’m nervous, but you’re the one that has to deal with all of it, and how different–”

“I want to come,” Clarke promised quickly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it the shorts?” Lexa grinned, teasing and all.

“Something like that.”

* * *

The phone calls came almost immediately after breakfast. Before the dishes were even stacked and scraped and shoved in the dishwasher after a quick rinse, Lexa’s phone vibrated almost steadily on the counter.

Clarke should have known things weren’t going to be quiet. It was the last day of the year and they had plans. The plans that involved kissing around midnight and confirming all of the other grainy pictures. And it was fine. Clarke was fine with it.

Except that she really wasn’t as comfortable as she liked to pretend, but she had this weird knack for faking her confidence that always led her into deep waters, and so far, it hadn’t been anything she’d drowned in. It was around this level of metaphor that she realized it was inevitable. She’d drown sooner or later.

“I’m sorry. That’s it for now, I think I headed them all off,” Lexa sighed as she moved around the living room and flopped on the couch.

“You’re a popular girl. I get it.”

“I’m not that popular.”

“Everyone else is anxious about the performance?” Clarke ventured.

A body slid slightly and buried a face in Clarke’s hip. Hot breath exhaled against shorts and a growl murmured against the couch.

“So many details. But we’ve practiced,” Lexa explained, coming up for air to push her hair away from their face. “Everyone is just antsy.”

“Could it be because you’re unpredictable?”

“Nah. That doesn’t sound like me.”

Clarke shook her head and let her phone drop to her chest, no longer interested in whatever someone was saying on the other end of the three dots. A hand moved along her side to her thigh to her knee.

“You have to get ready, huh?”

“Yeah, lots of press and stuff beforehand. But I’m not late until my sister starts to yell at m–”

The door opened before she could finish, but the noise made Lexa was somewhere between a growl and surrender.

“Indra said you weren’t answering her.”

Tall. Anya was taller than Clarke imagined. Taller and prettier and decidedly more annoyed than she would have hoped. Quietly, Clarke gulped as the person on top of her on the couch sat up a little taller.

“I didn’t give you a key to come and yell at me.”

“You’re late,” Anya argued, hands on her hips as she spoke.

“I am not.”

“You are,” she insisted. “And I have to go see the baby, so it’s your turn to do press.”

“That kid ruins everything.”

“I know.”

The two shared a smile and Clarke looked back and forth between the two, unsure of what a look like that meant. Siblings were a weird species. But a second later, she’d wish that she was simply watching, whereas suddenly hazel eyes were searching her completely, finally noticing the distraction, or at least acknowledging it.

“Introduce me to your friend.” the older sister bossed.

“No.”

“Lexa.”

“Clarke, this is my sister Anya,” Lexa sighed, defeated once again. “An, this is Clarke. We met on Tinder and have been hanging out for a few days while I’m in town.”

“The infamous Clarke,” she smiled.

Her lips curled somewhere between friendly and knowing, having already figured everything out years ahead of anyone else. But it was nice enough, and part of her wanted to believe that Anya was welcoming, despite her greater fears that it was a very complicated situation, and the oldest sibling knew as much and worried because of it.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Clarke offered with a weak smile.

“You as well.”

“Great, you’ve met,” Lexa stood nudging her sister with her body language. “I’ll shower and head down in less than an hour.”

“I’ll let Indra know. Please don’t be late.”

“I won’t be,” she promised. “Go see the baby. Go relax. I’ve got this.”

“You sure?”

“Promise.”

With a nod, Anya agreed. She moved toward the door, satisfied with having done he best she could with her sister. Clarke watched the entire thing, even as they whispered near the door and Anya cast one final look in her direction. After a few more seconds of sibling conversation, Lexa shut the door and sighed, leaning her back against it and regrouping.

“So that was your sister?”

“In the embarrassing flesh,” Lexa nodded. “I’m sorry about that.”

“No, no, it’s fine. She was nice.”

“She’s a pain.”

“You should go get ready.”

“Why does it always feel like we’re saying goodbye for good?”

Despite herself, Clarke chuckled and acquiesced, fighting the feeling as if she’d never see Lexa again. It felt like she was clinging, and she chalked it up to the time of year and the change that was happening to herself. It was the internship and figuring out her life, and struggling but remaining happy. And now there was this entire situation in which she was actively sleeping with someone who had Grammys on her bookshelf.

It was natural that it felt like it was always about to end, and she hated feeling that way, though she was grateful to not be alone in it.

“I’ll have the driver at your place around nine, if that’s okay? We can hang out backstage in between all of the hunk I have to do.”

Lexa ran her hand up and around her neck, sheepish about the suggestions.

“I’ll be ready. I’m going to wear a cute dress, but you won’t be able to see it under my big coat.”

“I could take your word for it,” she grinned, all wolf and predator and amused. “Or you could show me at the after party.”

“If you play well enough, I think I can be persuaded to be your date.”

“It’s locked up then.”

The two just smiled at each other from across the penthouse, unsure of how to actually leave, and knowing that they had to. It turned into a game of chicken, with neither wanting to break it, adn the odds getting more and more dire with every second.

“I’m going to go put on pants so I can do the walk of shame home,” Clarke finally muttered.

“Is it really shame?”

“Shut up.”

* * *

There were lesser addictions in her life, though perhaps addiction was the wrong term for these things. There were these things that she could almost not live without, but that she could not think about until they were happening.

Being on stage was one of them though.

The feeling of both control and lack of it. The rush of adrenaline that made her bones feel like they were being squeezed and her muscles like they were so strong they could do anything. That was the feeling– the invincibility of having thousands of people yell her own words and feelings back at her. She wasn’t addicted because she didn’t crave it. But she did miss it when she didn’t have it for a while.

The world faded away to nothing, and Lexa pushed the hair from her face in a mess and smiled wide as she grabbed the microphone.

From the edge of the stage, in the section for friend and celebrities and hosts, Clarke watched as Lexa put on her show, sang her song, became a very different person than the one that kissed her hips and sent her pictures from the art museum.

But it wasn’t that they were different people, or that Lexa was split between two sides, but rather that different parts were just magnified when she wa on stage. Gone were the worries of the world, and instead, there was a freedom. In the short time they knew each other, Lexa seemed especially burdened by her life, by being alive, by existing. It was something to see her completely unencumbered.

“How was that?” Lexa asked as she hopped off the stage and into the holding area. Bundled up as best she could, there was still sweat on her brow, but her smile was distracting.

“That was… spectacular is the only word that comes to mind.”

“I’m really glad you got to be here.”

“Me too,” Clarke smiled as she earned a hug.

“All I could really think about is this dress you promised to let me see.”

“That’s all?”

“I’m a simple girl.”

There were crowds everywhere, all around them people moved and celebrated, music played and everyone smiled. Even hidden backstage, there was an energy in the air of a new year and the fresh start.

“We still have about ten minutes before the ball drops,” Lexa smiled. “What should we do to end the year?”

“Can we find something to eat?”

“God,” Lexa tossed her head back and shook it before offering a prayer. “You are the perfect girl, did you know that?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

* * *

“Have you ever watched the ball drop in person?” Lexa asked as they huddled near the edge of a platform.

“I’m usually working,” Clarke shrugged. “You?”

“I’ve been kind of dazed the past few holidays, to be honest,” Lexa explained. “But I’ve never been here for it. We usually like to be back home.”

“Here’s to the first of many holidays you remember.”

Clarke lifted he water bottle and tapped it against the singers before taking a sip. The voices started to raise as the seconds ticked closer. Lexa leaned her shoulder against Clarke’s and hid in the worn leather of her jacket slightly, burrowing into her scarf while a girl with a pretty pink tint to her cheeks stared out onto the throngs of peoples.

“So, I don’t want to make this complicated. Can we not rush? Just… date?”

“That’s what you’re thinking about now?” Clarke furrowed.

“Yeah, kind of,” she shrugged. “I don’t want to rush into anything. I’ve known you for like three weeks, and I want to take it slow.”

“I thought we were going slow.”

“We are, and it’s great,” Lexa assured her. “I just want to be on the same page, and I’m not ready to commit to anything serious.”

“I’m not either.”

“But we don’t have to say goodbye.”

“I’d hope not.”

“No, I just mean,” Lexa tripped over her own tongue and it made Clarke smile as she shifted and turned toward her. “I want to keep dong whatever we’re doing. I just didn’t want to make things harder.”

“I’m still wary of the pictures and you and whatever is happening. I think slow is good.”

“Okay, great. Because we were kind of just…”

“Getting caught up in it a bit?”

“Yeah! Like really mashing all the minutes together real quickly because there’s a time limit,” Lexa nodded eagerly. “But there isn’t a time limit.”

“I like you. We can keep talking and getting to know each other.”

“Good. I just like to have my year started out with a clean slate. You were the last thing that I’d think of carrying ove, but I want to.”

“At midnight you won’t turn into a pumpkin?”

“Nope.”

Clarke’s hands toyed with Lexa’s scarf, adjusting it for her and laughing at the look on her face. There was something so simple about her that when she dug it out from the boulders of life, she felt a twinge of affection.

The countdown started for the final few seconds.

Lexa stood a little straighter, no longer leaning or watching the chanting or the crowd or the ball atop the building as it began a slow slip into next year. She pressed a little close to Clarke, and for just ten seconds, it felt like another year passed. Hands held onto her jacket, toying with the zipper and buttons.

“I’m really glad we figured this all out,” Lexa breathed.

Hands moved to Clarke’s chin, to her neck and held her there.

“Figured out that we’re just going to play it by ear?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too.”

It wasn’t even the new year yet, but Lexa didn’t care. She felt hands on her hips and she leaned forward with a smile and kissed Clarke until the fireworks started and a new year dawned without even noticing. She was trapped.

When it finally ended, she pressed her forehead against Clarke fo a moment with a smile and her eyes closed until Clarke swallowed her neck into another hug where she clung and mumbled into her neck.

“Happy New Year to you, too,” Lexa mumbled into Clarke’s shoulder, squeezing back even tighter to hide her smile.


End file.
